Joe went to the front of the house, and down at the stable he saw a
flickering, tiny light. It grew, and within seconds it was a leaping
fire. Joe felt his body grow taut, and fury mounted to new heights. But
he could do nothing except stand helplessly by and watch.
"The stock won't be there," Winterson assured him. "The devils'll run
that off with them."
"I--" Joe gritted.
"I know what you're thinking. You don't have to say it."
They watched the fire grow and heard its crackling, and the entire space
between the house and stable was lighted by it. Sparks floated skyward
and winked out. Fire broke through the shake roof, and transformed it
into seething, liquid flame. Then the roof fell in and there was a vast
shower of sparks.
"They're real playful," Winterson commented. "Real nice people."
"Where's the wagon?" Joe asked.
"What did you say?"
"They've taken the wagon!"