RUIN.
The major gave a shout which awakened the inmates of the house. Manie
called to Nora not to attempt to escape by means of her bedroom door,
but to make her way out through the window. In this way the two girls
safely passed from the building, though barely in time, as the fire
was sweeping along the gables.
The major's first thought was of the manuscript of his unfinished
work, "Naturae Concordia Philosophiae Animi." He rushed to the parlor
to save his prized papers, but as he opened the door, there poured
out a volume of smoke and heat which drove him staggering back. He
gathered for another rush, intending to force his way through to the
secretary which held his precious manuscript. Just then he was seized
by Mrs. Grippin, Manie and Nora, who pushed him through the passage
to the sitting-room.
"Don't be a fool, James," said Mrs. Grippin. "You can't get in
there."
Brought back to reason by the familiar voice and address, Ratke
instantly set to work to save his property. He pitched a bureau
through a window. He sent after it chairs, a table, the
sewing-machine, a lounge and a large clock. The heat and smoke had by
this time grown so intolerable that he was obliged to retreat to the
dining room. There he threw furniture through the windows, and began
to carry out crockery and kitchen utensils. Then he thought of saving
the things which he had thrown through the windows, but it was too
late. They were already enveloped in flame.
"Oh! look at the barns," cried Nora, when they had gone with their
last load from the kitchen.
The trail of straw which the major had scattered had major ran out
and turned loose the horses, which went racing around the barnyard,
where the cattle were bellowing in affright. He opened a gate leading
to the lane, when the mixed drove of animals hurried away to a place
of safety. They had barely escaped when the straw-stack was lighted,
every part of its surface almost instantly contributing to the blaze.
On his return he was obliged to go around the barnyard, which had
become too much heated to allow him to pass through it.
Humanity alone had sent him to the barns. His choicest inventions,
which he was determined to rescue, were in the tool-house. When he
arrived there, that building, too, was on fire. With a frantic plunge
he went in at the fire-wreathed door and emerged, bearing his one-man
saw. His New Jerusalem, the most precious of his mental creations,
was still inside. His charred bones would have been mingled with the
ashes and blackened irons had not Mrs. Grippin and Manie detained
him.
"Let me go, Maria!" he said. "Let me go! I must save my wagon!"
"No, no," said Mrs. Grippin, with unusual tenderness. "You can't get
it. No one can go in there now."
"Let go of me," he insisted, still struggling in the grasp of the
three, for Nora had joined them. "I tell you I must save it. It is my
only hope, and I can never have the heart to build it again."
They held him until the roof fell in and they knew by his quiet
demeanor that his spasm of excitement had passed. Indifferent as to
what next occurred, he seated himself on a stick of hewn timber near
the road, and looked alternatively from one blazing building to
another. The club-house was out of range of most of the Sparks which
flew from Ratke's dwelling, but now and then shingles and other
debris were dropped on the roof. By some of these it was lighted,
and, before the destruction of any of the buildings was complete, it
was crackling under a sheet of fire.
The oat-field joined the barnyard. The grain, thick, lodged and dead
ripe, caught like tinder and sent a swift wave of flame across the
field which ran to the marsh. Combustion was easy in the grass, which
was there wide-leafed and dry. It spread to the small bushes, where
it grew in height and intensity. It swept with increasing speed over
the outlying small trees, and up and above the loftiest tamaracks.
For miles could be heard the steady roar and seen the long streams of
fire which grandly illumined the night.
The women carried pail after pail of water to the clubhouse, but
Ratke mechanically watched the swamp. Its high volume of flame, the
grandest spectacle which he had ever seen, had a singular fascination
for him. Benumbed, as he was, by the succession of misfortunes, he
did not realize that he must leave the farm, that the Barton hundred
and sixty had left his possession, or that his unpublished book and
his Jerusalem wagon were burned. He did not speculate as to where his
refuge would be on the morrow. He gave no concern to the fact that he
was barefooted, homeless, hatless and coatless. He sat listlessly,
occasionally turning to look at the women, the tool-house, the
club-house, or his dwelling, which was now nearly consumed.
"Well, major, this is a bad business," said Sparks, who had
approached. "Did you save anything!"
"Yes," answered Ratke, "we saved some dishes."
"That's a good deal better than nothin'," said Sparks. "You don't
want to be gittin' down in the mouth now."
"No," said the major.
"Have you made any pervision for the needcessties o' the 'casion?"
"What provision?"
"Why, insurin'. Was you insured?"
"No."
"That's too bad. They don't any man know when such a needcessty is
comin'. If he's prepared for it, he's all right. But if he ain't
he's, as you might say, in a bad fix."
The major had no pugnacity left to resent the reproof of Sparks. He
kept his seat on the stick of timber, while his unwelcome visitor
went to interview and, perchance, to assist the women, who were
still, though ineffectually, throwing water on the club-house.
"Ain't you got a hose for the pump?" asked Sparks.
"No," replied Mrs. Grippin.
"It would be a nice thing if you had one. You orto a been lookin' out
for that."
Other neighbors arrived on the scene. Among them was the family of
Holmes who lived near the church. Holmes said that the fire had done
all the damage it could, as nothing was left about the premises for
it to destroy. The major's folks might as well go home with him. He
would think it a privilege to keep them as long as they chose to
stay. Offers of hospitality were made by every one present.
"You can go home with me if you want to," said Sparks. "I ain't a
goin' to say I won't give no help because the major was careless,
forgitful like. Some folks is always careless, and other folks have
to make it up to 'em.
"They're going home with me," said Holmes. "I spoke first, and they
hadn't ought to disappoint me."
Jennie Holmes locked arms with Manie and Nora, and the three walked
away.
"I must see to Uncle James," said Manie. "He feels so bad. Some one
ought to comfort him."
"We will go back and get him," said Miss Holmes.
"Perhaps I had better go alone," said Manie. "He is used to me."
"Uncle James," said Manie, "we are going to Mr. Holmes's now."
"Very well," said Ratke. "No doubt it is best for you to go."
"But you must come too."
"Manie," said the major, looking up for the first time since her
approach, "I want to stay here. I want to watch the machinery which I
have constructed, perishing, as have my hopes for its success, eaten
out piece by piece, always with a circle of ashes around the
unconsumed part. Do you see the New Jerusalem? The high posts and the
boxes are about gone. The spokes are burned well to the center of the
wheels. I cannot go until those burn out."
"You had better come," argued Manie. "It will do you no good to stay
here."
"Yes, it will," said Ratke. "All my dearest earthly possessions are
in those embers. They are dying, and I must be with them to the last.
The fire is burning out of them all except the hard iron. It is
burning out of me everything except the harder and sterner feelings."
"I did not think you were the one to give up, Uncle James," said
Manie.
"Give up?" said the major, "No, I never gave up to man or misfortune,
and I never will. I am not begging, or cringing, but I am crushed,
and I have ceased to struggle. I care not what happens, I am ready to
meet it. Despair has no further depth to open for me. My senses are
blunted. I am in no great mental pain. I have suffered so much that
my capacity for suffering is exhausted. Leave me now, Manie. I want
to be alone."
"I will not leave you," said Manie. "You shall not stay here alone in
this barbarous fashion."
"You have always obeyed me," said the major sorrowfully. "I thought
you would not choose this as the time to break my command."
Much as she disliked to go, Manie could not violate the gentle
command of her uncle. She walked slowly, that she might not join Miss
Holmes and Nora, for she was crying bitterly, not for herself, not
for their property, but for the noble-hearted old major, whose
reason, she believed, was certainly giving way.
Now and then the group in advance cast back glances at the
conflagration. The brilliant display in the swamp exceeded that of
the buildings, as much as their light had exceeded that of the match
by which they were kindled.
The inhabitants of Break o'Day were awakened by clouds of smoke
rolling in at their open windows. Rising, they perceived here and
there waving pillars of fire standing out against the western sky,
the torches which the dead tamaracks swayed while their green
companions were being slowly undermined. They could not see that
unbroken sheet which curtained the opposite side of the swamp, but
they saw and heard enough to fill them with consternation. They
harnessed teams, they loaded wagons with furniture and prepared to
leave their village the instant its destruction seemed imminent. But,
in the interior of the swamp, where there was no grass, and where the
only inflammable material was the muck and the few dry trees, the
fire traveled with less rapidity than at the edge. The people
perceived that, though they had cause for apprehension, there was no
immediate danger; and the exodus was postponed. A few of the business
men, including Dr. Rorus, wished to have a better view of the
conflagration. The road westward, however, was in all likelihood too
hot to be traversed by observers in comfort. They went, therefore,
for a distance along the Sharptown road, turning south past Briggs's,
proceeding west at Barton Junction, and finally bringing up at the
corner by Takum's.
At Holmes's the two families made a pretense of retiring to sleep.
They rose early, and after breakfast went back to Ratke. Before them
had arrived the party from Break o'Day, the major's hired men and a
number of farmers. Ratke was still sitting by the tool-house, looking
at the few points of flame which clung about his Jerusalem wagon. He
hardly spoke to his friends and ignored, or answered briefly, their
questions. Manie went close to their ruined dwelling. Some blackened
sheets of paper, well-preserved in shape, were where the bookcases
had been, and among them she saw a page of "Naturae Concordia
Philosophiae Animi," which could be easily read, but which fell in
pieces as soon as it was touched.
"Something ought to be done for him," said Holmes. "He's lost
everything he had. We can all give a little, and it won't hurt us."
"I s'pose we can," said Sparks, "there's been the north fire
sufferers an' the Oakville sufferers, an' now there's sufferin' to be
helped here. I'm willin' to help, but of course it pulls on the
pocket-book."
"Some one better pass around a hat and a paper," suggested Holmes.
"The ones that have it by them give money, and the ones that haven't
put down what they will give."
"I'll pass 'em," said Sparks. "Now, gentlemen, who's a goin' to give
somethin' to Major Ratke, He's been a havin' kind o' bad luck. Of
course he orto a made pervision for it. There ain't no question about
that. But he didn't, an' he can't help it. Nor there can't nobody
help it;" and he held a silver dollar high above his head that his
generosity might be observed.
The offers of charity roused Ratke, who had been deaf to all other
sounds. "Gentlemen," he said, "I can accept no charity. I am able to
work." Then he went back to his seat on the stick of timber,
forgetful of the kindness which was ready to succor him.
"That knocks the bisness on the head," said Sparks. "We can't do a
thing if he won't take it."
"No, it don't," said Daggett. "Just come along this way a little
where he can't hear us. They ain't got a place to stay, and we ought
to do what we can to help 'em. Miss Grippin will take that and buy
what they need, and the major won't think to inquire where she got
it."
"I don't feel like givin' in no such way," said Sparks.
"Then we don't want you to," said Daggett. "If a man is too stingy to
give anything, let him keep his money to himself."
"Oh, I'll hand it over to Miss Grippin," said Sparks quickly, "I was
only a sayin' I didn't like such a roundabout way o' helpin' him."
"Miss Grippin," said Jake Sheppard, "mebbe you knew I bought that
house an' lot this side o' the church, where Halleck used to live."
"No, I didn't," answered Mrs. Grippin.
"Yes, I bought it, and I ain't no use for it, I'd like to have
somebody in the house, an' I rather, have you than any one else."
"You can speak to James about it," said Mrs. Grippin.
"You see we don't hitch very well," said Jake, "that is, he don't
like me. I ain't got nothin' agin him, I don't want any rent. We'll
have you some furniture there in no time. You can go right in from
here. The major wouldn't never think o' askin' who owned it."
"Thank you, I'll do that," said Mrs. Grippin.
A shriek rang out among the evergreens. Hastening to the spot, the
curious spectators found Nora lying in a faint. Beside her was the
body of Montcalm, with the face turned upward in an expression of
anguish which the great heat, though it had roasted his flesh, had
not obliterated. The hair was burned from his head, and the clothing
hung on his body in ashes. The discovery produced that silence which
awe enjoins on curiosity. Nora was carried away, and measures were
taken for her restoration to consciousness. For a moment the
lookers-on did not crowd about the body of Montcalm. But, presently
overcoming their timidity, they pressed closer and soon became
convinced of his identity.
"Ah! what have we here?" exclaimed Rorus. "Another murder! Another
case under your jurisdiction, Sparks."
"I wonder if I hadn't better call the jury right together?" asked
Sparks.
"Certainly, certainly," said Dr. Rorus, breathing fumes of whiskey in
the justice's face. "Every man, every good citizen, every poor
citizen for that matter, the rich and the poor, the high and the low,
all of 'em ought to be be ready to put down crime. Crime, which
kills, crime, which steals, crime, which robs, crime, which forges,
crime, which slanders, crime, which--does mean acts, crime is the
worst curse this country ever had and the most destructive to its
morality."
Sparks chose the jury and began to make inquiries about witnesses.
"We'll have to have the major first," he said. "He seen him about the
last of anybody around here."
"Don't go to bringin' him," said Jake. "He thought his eyes o' this
feller. It would nigh about kill 'im."
"I don't see how we're a goin' to help it," said Sparks. "We've got
to investigate an' we've got to have testimony."
"Can't be helped," said Rorus. "Can't be helped. Millions of men have
died for law. If we have to sacrifice one, we'll stand to it like
heroes."
"You know it'll clean use 'im up," said Jake. "If you make 'im come
here, you orto be licked."
The major at last arose from the timber. Hearing the dispute in the
evergreens, he listlessly walked in that direction. Near the trees he
went around Daggett, who purposely stood in his way. Jake, as a last
resort, put both his hands on the shoulders of some spectators and,
gripping tightly without appearing to notice him, endeavored to
prevent him from passing.
"Let me through, Jake," said Ratke.
Jake reluctantly yielded. The major pushed his way through and came
unexpectedly upon the dead man. He said nothing, but, looking long
and searchingly, he read the story of the robber and the incendiary.
The son of his old comrade, his friend whom he had almost worshiped
had perished in the act of destroying his home. His golden idol was
but shattered clay. Slowly he turned from the body with an expression
of unutterable despair and went back to the hewn timber. Neither
Sparks nor Rorus had the heart to insist on his revisiting the spot.
"If they hadn't a made such a fuss, he wouldn't a went up," said Jake
to Mrs. Grippin. "Now they've done it, I s'pose they're satisfied.
You better git him home as quick as you can. Miss Grippin."
"He don't act right," said Mrs. Grippin. "I'll have Manie take him
away."
"Come, Uncle James," said Manie, slipping her arm through his, "we
have a home now in that little house by the church. Let us go there,
you and I."
The major did not seem to hear her. He still gazed abstractedly at
the ashes of the tool-house but at last yielded more to the gentle
tugging at his arm than to her words. Casting a last look at the
irons of the New Jerusalem, he rubbed his knuckles twice across his
forehead and went silently with his niece.