One way to make
the path was to lasso and kill a few sheep from the nearest flock and
drag them up and down at a gallop through the dense thistles until a
broad space was clear where the flames could be stamped and beaten out
with horse-rugs. But sheep to be used in this way were not always to
be found on the spot, and even when a broad space could be made, if a
hot north wind was blowing it would carry showers of sparks and
burning sticks to the other side and the fire would travel on.
I remember going to one of these big fires when I was about twelve
years old. It broke out a few miles from home and was travelling in
our direction; I saw my father mount and dash off, but it took me half
an hour or more to catch a horse for myself, so that I arrived late on
the scene. A fresh fire had broken out a quarter of a mile in advance
of the main one, where most of the men were fighting the flames; and
to this spot I went first, and found some half a dozen neighbours who
had just arrived on the scene. Before we started operations about
twenty men from the main fire came galloping up to us. They had made
their path, but seeing this new fire so far ahead, had left it in
despair after an hour's hard hot work, and had flown to the new danger
spot. As they came up I looked in wonder at one who rode ahead, a tall
black man in his shirt sleeves who was a stranger to me.
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