A party of fishermen had camped in the Red River country near Cape Breton Highlands National Park. When they moved out, they committed the worst crime in the woodsman's book: they failed to put out their fire. From its embers sprang a blaze that soon fired the summer-dry brush nearby. Volunteers came running and quickly had the burning brush under control—or so they thought until a rising wind undid their work. Soon a white mushroom of smoke hung over Cape Breton's heartland.
The billowing fire raced through tall stands of spruce, pine, oak...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
