Ruth and Barbara related to Miss Sallie their adventures of the day
before. She went through a dozen stages of emotion, and fairly wrung her
hands over the tramps. The part about José she could not believe.
"That nice boy!" she exclaimed. "It is impossible." Then she grew
indignant. "What does John Ten Eyck mean by bringing us into this
lawless country, I should like to know?"
"But, auntie, the major declares it was never like this before. The
woods have always been perfectly safe. When Stephen and Martin were
little boys they used to play in them with only Old Jennie to look after
them."
"Ruth," cried Miss Sallie, "the major is one of the nicest men in the
world, but he always would overlook disagreeable things. He runs away
from anything that hurts. He may have overlooked the tramps and robbers,
just as he has been blind to ugliness whenever he could."
"He's a dear," said Mollie.
"Dear or no dear," cried Miss Sallie, "this time we really must go. Tell
the chauffeur to fix up the machine, Ruth, my child, for to-morrow we
shall leave this barbarous place."
"All right, auntie," replied her niece, relieved that they were not to
go immediately, since they all wanted to see the episode of José
through.
Time passed, but the four horsemen did not return. The girls were
sitting with Miss Sallie at the shady end of the piazza, watching the
sun sink behind the forest. There was a smell of burning in the air that
the sensitive nostrils of the chaperon had sniffed immediately.
"The wind must be blowing from the mountains to-day," she observed. "I
smell burning as plainly as if it were at our gates."
"But, Miss Sallie," said Grace, "remember that it smelt like this in New
York last week."
"My dear," replied Miss Sallie, "I am perfectly familiar with the smell
of burning forests, I have smelt them so often in imagination. Why, see,
the air is filled with fine ashes," she exclaimed, shaking out her
lavender skirts with disgust. She had hardly spoken before a tall figure
was seen hurrying across the lawn.
"It's blind Jennie," cried Ruth. "Perhaps she can give us news of the
major or José."
As old Jennie approached they could see she was fearfully excited. Her
face was working and several times she waved her stick wildly in the
air. Just then a strange thing happened. Half a dozen terrified deer
appeared from the direction of the forest, dashed madly across the lawn
and disappeared in a grove on the other side. Squirrels and rabbits
followed by the dozens, while distracted birds flew in groups and
circled around and around the tops of the trees.
"What has happened, Jennie?" cried Ruth, shaking the blind woman by the
arm.
Jennie seemed to scan the company with her sightless eyes, sniffing the
air wildly.
"The woods are burning," she said. "The flames are coming nearer. They
are slow, but they are sure. Everything is so dry. You must hurry, if
you would save the house!"
"Save the house?" repeated Miss Stuart mechanically. "Do you mean to say
there is danger of this house being burned down? Is the fire coming this
way? Great heavens! Order the car at once, children. We must leave at
any cost. This is the last straw!"
"But, Aunt Sallie," urged Ruth, laying a detaining hand on her aunt's
arm, "you wouldn't have us desert the major's house, would you, and
leave all these beautiful things to burn? Besides, we may be running
away from the major and the boys. How do we know but that they are in
the woods? They may need our help."
"My child, we are not a fire department," exclaimed Miss Sallie, "and if
we are to save this beautiful house, how do you propose to do it?"
"If worse comes to worst," cried Bab, "we can form a bucket brigade
here, and keep the fire from getting to the house."
"What about water?" demanded Miss Sallie.
"Don't you remember the major said he had a well of water reserved for
fires?" said Ruth.
"It may not be necessary to use the water," Bab continued. "The first
thing to do is to cut off the forest fire by having a trench dug on that
side of the house. Everybody will have to get to work. Come on! We must
not lose time."
Miss Sallie ran into the hall and rang a bell violently. John, the
butler, came at once.
"John," she cried, speaking very rapidly, "the forest is on fire. Get
every available person on the place as fast as you can, with shovels and
hoes and help the young ladies dig a trench to protect the major's
house."
John looked dazed, sniffed the air and ran without a word. Presently a
bell thundered out in the stillness. It had not been rung for many
years, but the employees on the place knew what it meant, and came
running from their cottages, and the work of digging a trench beyond Ten
Eyck Hall was begun. Each moment the air was growing more dense and a
darkness was settling down which was lit up, toward the west, by a lurid
glow. The heat was intense and fine ashes filled the toilers' throats
and nostrils. Birds, blinded by the smoke dashed past, almost hitting
the workers' faces. People came running from the burning forest, the old
Gypsy woman and her granddaughter and other women from the Gypsy band.
The men were bringing the wagons around by the road; old Adam and his
wife, driving their wood cart and frantically beating the worn-out
horse; and finally, the hermit, with his white locks flying. Ten Eyck
Hall would seem to have been the refuge of all these terrified dwellers
in the forest. They regarded it with pride and love. Even the Gypsies
had sought its protection, and the gray, rambling old place appeared to
stretch out its arms to them. Blind Jennie strode up and down the lawn,
wildly waving her stick, while old Adam called to Miss Sallie:
"Where is the master? Where are the young masters?"
And where were the old master and the young ones? If ever they were
needed, it was now!
In the meantime, the girls, leaving Miss Sallie to direct the digging of
the trench, had run to the house.
"I think, Ruth," called Bab, "we had better collect all the buckets and
pails we can find."
"Yes," replied Ruth, "and the hose should be attached to the reserve
well. John is attending to that. Mollie and Grace, run and get whatever
blankets there are in the bed rooms, and close the windows all over the
house."
While John was attaching the hose to the faucet of the reserve well,
Ruth and Bab invaded the enormous kitchen of the hall. The servants had
fled. Only Mary and John could be depended upon. The pumping engine had
been started and the tank was rapidly filling.
"O Ruth," exclaimed Bab, "how careless of us to have forgotten the cars!
The garage is nearest to the forest and the automobiles should be run
out right off. We may need them if things get very bad."
"Of course," replied Ruth. "Where is the chauffeur? Did you ever know
any of these people to be on hand when they were needed?"
Dashing to the garage, they cranked up the two machines and ran them out
onto the lawn in an open space. José's motor cycle came next.
"The fire has come," cried Grace and Mollie running up with their arms
full of blankets. They could hear the roaring, crackling sound as the
flames licked their way through the dry underbrush.
"Where is Miss Sallie?" demanded Ruth. "She will faint in this terrible
atmosphere."
"There she is," answered Grace; "she is overseeing the trench-digging. I
think she has ordered them to make it broader."
Miss Sallie, her lavender skirts caught up over her arm, was standing
near the men, giving her orders as calmly as if she were in her own
drawing room.
The line of forest about a quarter of a mile distant began to glow red.
The girls clutched each other.
"There it is!" they cried. "And now to save the major's house!"
Bab organized a bucket brigade with Mollie, Grace and the Gypsy women.
John was ordered to manipulate the hose, while Bab and Ruth carried wet
blankets over to the garage, the building nearest the line of fire. Then
a cry went up from the men who were digging the trench. The flames,
which had been steadily devouring the dried grass of the meadow dividing
the garden from the wood, had reached the trench. A sudden gust of wind
carried them over. Instantly a group of bushes caught fire; and, like an
angry animal seeking its prey, a long, forked tongue licked the ground
hungrily for a moment, paused at the gravel walk, followed its edge,
eating up the short, dry grass in its path, and made for the garage. All
this happened in much quicker time than it takes to tell it--too
quickly, in fact for any precaution.