FIRE.
The snow was deep in the forest. It upholstered the gaunt branches of
the giant trees; it clung tenaciously to the leafless twigs; it
encrusted the millions of pine needles; it covered the rough
mountain-sides: it piled up its crystals in the deep ravines, where the
deer hid; it lay like a warm blanket over the wheat; it spread all over
the land, a great white silence, through which the river and creek,
spellbound, flowed without a murmur.
Thus it had lain for three months--December, January, February. The
clouds, jealous of the sun and proud of their artistic skill in
softening the face of Nature, grim and gaunt in her winter's sleep, came
almost daily and sifted fresh snow upon that already fallen, which the
winds and sun were in alliance to disfigure and soil.
March had just come. Each day the sun rose more confident of victory.
Ere long he would succeed in making Nature look like an old wanton, her
powdered face tear-streaked and unsightly.
On the last night of February the clock in Lizzi's room made one quick
guess at the time, and brought her back from a flight of fancy. She was
startled to see that it was one o'clock, and resumed the sewing that had
lain neglected in her lap, while her thoughts roved.
She was sewing in secret, with the blind of the window down and her
candle shaded. The garment she was fashioning was one of those almost
shapeless infant robes that the inventive skill of dawning motherhood
makes so diversely pretty and daintily ungraceful. She had begun to fold
a plait in it, and paused to debate with herself on the size of the
fold.
"If I was sure it would be a boy I'd make these pleats wider," she
murmured.
From that her thoughts had wandered until she was recalled to her work
by the striking of the clock. For another hour she worked diligently,
then arose and put the sewing away where her mother would not be likely
to find it. After that she blew out the candle and raised the blind for
a last look that night at the store. The moonlight streamed into the
window, dazzling her eyes accustomed to the candle-light. She shut them
quickly in pain, and when she opened them a thrill of terror passed over
her.
She saw a great column of smoke rising from the roof of the store, and a
little flame leaping up through it.
The next moment, an axe in her hand, she was on the street.
"Fire! Fire! The store's on fire!"
Her clear voice rang wild and sharp on the still night air. The echoes
mocked her.
"Colonel Hornberger, get up!"
With her axe's handle she rattled fierce blows on the front door of the
proprietor's house.
"Help! Help!"
The echoes hurled back her voice mockingly:
"Help! ha, ha!"
"He is dead," she thought, "and the echoes are making fun of me."
Cry after cry she uttered in her anguish, fierce alarm-notes that
aroused the heavy sleepers and brought them to the windows, only to
hastily throw on some clothes and rush to the rescue, for they all knew
that Gill slept in the store and even then might be dead.
Oh! Lizzi's strength! No longer screaming in terror, no more exhausting
her breath by calling for help, she dealt mighty blows with the axe
against the door of the office, above which her husband slept. Giant
strokes, rapid, unerring, concentrated, made effective by the skill of a
woodman, the strength of despair and the agony of love. Against them the
door could not stand. It fell in, cut off its hinges. A great volume of
smoke rolled out and beat her back.
A closed door separated the office from the store and was a barrier to
the flames which were raging in the store-room.
Drawing a full breath and bowing low, Lizzi plunged into the office and
reached the stair door. Well she knew the way. The door was closed, and
she was so unnerved with joy that for a moment she clung to the latch
and listened to the flames roaring in the store. She could see them
through the window which give light from the office to the rear of the
store, and they fascinated her. The heat cracked the glass in the
window, and a tongue of flame leaped towards the opening made by a
falling pane.
This recalled Lizzi to a sense of the danger and the need for urgent
action. She jerked the door open, breaking the latch, and sped up the
stairs, chased by a volume of smoke. To her horror it filled the room,
else it was in her eyes. Thank God! she had brought the axe. Staggering
to the windows, she smashed them both and knocked the shutters open,
giving vent to the smoke.
She could not see Gill, but she knew just where he lay. With an effort
she reached the bed. Her mouth was firmly closed, but her strength was
almost gone Her trembling hands touched him. He was motionless.
Then when her heart had almost stopped and she was falling in a swoon,
the flames burst into the room, lighting up Gill's face upturned and
white. Uttering a scream, she caught him up in her arms, became strong
again in desperation, and leaped recklessly down the stairs. Tottering
with her burden into the street; she sank unconscious at the feet of
Cassi, who, hearing her cries, had come running, the first to answer her
call.
There had not been so much smoke in Gill's room as Lizzi had imagined,
and he soon recovered consciousness in the cold air.
There was no hope for the store, and no one remembered the office books.
A little presence of mind and prompt action on the part of first-comers
might have saved them, but every one was so excited over Lizzi's daring
and remarkable strength in saving Gill from a horrible death that all
else was forgotten. Some ran for the doctor and others tried to restore
her to consciousness, Colonel Hornberger encouraging them.
"Never mind the store," he exclaimed. "The fire is only making away with
the old stock and giving Gill and me an excuse for a trip to the city.
But save that brave girl if possible."
He tore off his coat and threw it over Lizzi, who lay on an improvised
couch of store boxes, hastily placed together by willing hands.
"Heavens, what a woman!"
He uttered the words impulsively as he gazed admiringly upon her.
Other men followed his example, and they stood shivering, while their
coats covered Lizzi.
She lay still. The weird red light of the roaring flames could not even
tint her face, so white and cold it was.
Over her bent the man whose life she had saved. His face was firm, his
eyes were dry, his pulse was steady. His only speech, a question spoken
in a low tone, sent a thrill through the crowd, in which were now a
number of women.
"Will the doctor never come?" he asked.
Coatless and inefficient, the men stood at a respectful distance from
Lizzi, over whom Cassi bent, speaking to her in fond tones, and their
stern silence checked the gabble of the women, who knew not what to do
to restore her to life, but had suggested many things that night avail.
A shriek, the quavering cry of old age, nor piercing, but heart-rending,
broke from the lips of Lizzi's mother, as half clad, she pushed feebly
her way through the yielding crowd and fell across her daughter's body.
Colonel Hornberger put his arm around her and lifted her away from the
boxes.
"Here, Gret Reed, you take charge of Mrs. McAnay. Go with her to my
house."
Gret obeyed the excited proprietor, and as she supported the moaning
woman along the street they met Hunch leading Blind Benner.
"She's dead!" Mrs. McAnay exclaimed. "My Lizzi's dead! my Lizzi's dead!
Oh! oh!"
Blind Benner heard her and stopped. "Take me away, Hunch," he pleaded,
"take me away."
Hunch turned towards the Block. Tears streamed from the blind man's
eyes, and sobs choked him. After going a few steps he halted and faced
the fire. Hunch, obedient to his every wish, let go the hand he shook as
if to free it. They were near the fire, and its heat burned Blind
Benner's face. Hunch stood with his back to it, watching its light on
the snow-covered mountain.
A quick movement on the part of Bind Benner attracted his attention. He
turned around and saw the blind man running straight to the fire.
Shouting to him to stop, Hunch started after him, but he was running
swiftly without stumbling, and there seemed small hope of catching him.
Gret looked over her shoulder on hearing Hunch's cries, and saw that
Blind Benner meant to commit suicide. Clear as a bell her voice rang out
in the only lie she ever told.
"Benner, you have passed the fire; turn back."
The doubt she raised checked him for only a moment, but long enough to
bring Hunch upon him. In a twinkling his feet were knocked from under
him and Hunch sat upon his prostrate form.
The messenger who had been sent for the doctor brought back word that he
had not returned from a late call up Boomer Creek.
"My God, she will die!" Gill groaned, "and for me!"
His words scored sympathizing hearts and indented faithful memories.
The store building was dry as tinder and burned very rapidly. The roof
had fallen in before Gill recovered consciousness, and soon after the
walls toppled into the cellar.
The news of the doctor's absence sent a pang to the hearts of all, and
hope for Lizzi was abandoned, she being beyond the restorative power of
the water which had been dashed in her face.
A hastily constructed stretcher, made of two benches from the tavern
fastened together, was brought, and Lizzi's limp form was laid upon it.
Coats were her mattress, and coats her covering. Four strong men lifted
the stretcher and headed the procession, which filed silently around the
rapidly lessening blare. Gill and Cassi came next, walking arm in arm,
the former wearing a coat that a brawny man had thrown over his
shivering shoulders.
When the column came to where the front entrance of the store had been,
Hunch and Blind Benner were struggling in the water made by the snow
melting in the heat of the fire. "What's this?" sternly demanded Colonel
Hornberger, who broke into a laugh before he received an answer. The
fire excitement was still working in him.
"He tried ter burn hisself an' I wouldn't let him," Hunch replied.
"What did he want to do that for?" asked the Colonel.
"Cause Lizzi's dead."
Thus was told in simple words to the people of Three Sisters what Lizzi
herself had not known, that Blind Benner loved her.
Simultaneously with this disclosure came the sound of a horse galloping
over the Boomer Creek bridge. The horse came rapidly nearer, and soon
his hoofs resounded from the long bridge that spanned the river.
It was a wild gallop, yet the horse ran as if some one sat him urging
him on.
"The doctor," surmised every one, and the procession halted. Hunch
voiced the general guess to Blind Benner, whom he yet held on the
ground.
"The doctor's comin'. He'll bring Lizzi back ter life, see if he don't,
Benner."
The blind man ceased struggling, and Hunch let him get on his feet, but
watched him warily.
A shout of glad welcome greeted the familiar roan that "saddle-bags," as
the Three-Sisters folk would call their physician, always rode when
visiting distant patients or in response to urgent calls. The men who
bore the stretcher set it down, in readiness for Dr. Barnes, as he
reined his horse in the midst of the crowd of men and women who pressed
dangerously near the excited animal. Strong hands seized the bridle and
muscular arms almost pulled the physician from the saddle, while Colonel
Hornberger graphically narrated the story of Gill's rescue and told of
Lizzi's swoon which was like death.
"She's choked with the smoke, Lizzi is, and don't come to," said Cassi,
piteously.
Garrulous women pushed forward to furnish the doctor with details of the
rescue and praise Lizzi, but he would not listen to them. He pressed his
ear to Lizzi's bosom and silence fell on the spectators. He raised his
head, and they, eager, expectant, saw no encouragement in his face. From
his pocket he produced a small mirror and wiped it dry with a silk
handkerchief. He held it a moment over Lizzi's mouth and smiled.
The air quivered with shouts, the boisterous hurrahs of the men, the
shrill huzzas of the women.