A LIVELY FIRE.
In the meantime Jack and several others of the Home Guard had made their
way to the barn and brought forth two ladders, a short affair and one
which was both long and heavy.
"The short one can be placed on the veranda roof," said the young
captain. "The other we can place against the corner, where the fire is
burning the strongest."
"Somebody must have gone into the garret to set that fire," said another
of the boys. "Where are the water buckets?"
"Here da am, sah," replied one of the negro servants, and handed them
over.
"Somebody must keep at the well," said Jack. "Pompey, you know how to
use the buckets best. You draw for us."
"Yes, Massah Jack."
"We'll form a line to the cistern, too," went on our hero. "Now then,
work lively!"
The boys ran to the places assigned to them, and aided by the colored
servants placed the ladders as desired. Soon water was being passed up
and dashed upon the burning roof with all possible speed. But the fire
was a lively one, and the breeze which was blowing helped it to spread.
"What can I do?" asked St. John, as he stood by, rubbing his hands
nervously.
"Go down to the stable and the barns and put out the sparks blowing that
way," said Jack.
"Don't you want me here?"
"Yes, if you'll go up to the top of the ladder," answered our hero,
knowing full well St. John would do nothing of the sort.
"I--I never could climb a ladder," faltered the young man, and turned
toward the stable, where he spent his time in putting out the flying
sparks, as Jack had suggested.
It was hot work on the long ladder, and soon Jack was all but exhausted.
But he stuck to his post, knowing full well that, if he let up, the fire
would soon get the best of them. All of the boys worked like Trojans,
and the negro servants helped them as much as possible. Mrs. Ruthven
remained in the house, packing up her valuables, so as to be able to
leave, should it become necessary to do so.
[Illustration: IT WAS HOT WORK ON THE LONG LADDER AND SOON JACK WAS
ALL BUT EXHAUSTED.--_Page 173._]
"More water!" cried Jack. "The fire is eating to the center of the roof!
More water!"
"We are bringing it as fast as we can!" panted the boy below him.
"Make the servants form a line to the cistern."
"I will," answered the boy, and soon the water was coming up as rapidly
as Jack and the other lad on the roof could handle it.
At last the fire seemed to lose its force, and was extinguished at one
corner of the roof. Then all hands turned their attention to the spot
over the veranda. Here the flames had eaten under the gutter.
"We must have an ax!" exclaimed Jack, and one was quickly procured from
the woodpile.
"Hi! what are you going to do with that?" yelled St. John, as he caught
sight of the article.
"Going to chop a hole in the roof," answered our hero.
"How foolish! You'll make the fire worse."
"No, I won't--I know what I am doing, St. John."
"You shan't chop a hole in the roof," insisted the unreasonable young
man.
A cry of derision went up from half a dozen of the boys.
"Take a back seat, St. John," advised one. "You are too scared to know
what you are saying."
At this the spendthrift's face grew as red as a beet.
"Shut your tongue, Larry Wilson," he retorted. "I say you shan't chop a
hole in the roof. It will let the wind get to the flames."
"We want to get the water on the flames," replied Larry.
"And I say you shan't touch the roof with the ax!" screamed St. John. "I
command you to stop."
"All right then, we'll stop," said Larry, and Jack said the same. In a
moment more they were both on the ground, the other lads with them.
"Fo' de land sake, de house will burn up suah now!" groaned one of the
negroes.
"If it does, it will be St. John's fault," answered our hero. He was
thoroughly disgusted over the way St. John had acted.
"I'se gwine to tell de missus ob dis!" cried a second negro, and darted
away in search of Mrs. Mary Ruthven.
Soon the lady of the house came running out, with a bundle in one hand
and a box of jewelry in the other.
"What is this I hear, St. John?" she demanded.
"They want to chop in the roof, mother," he answered.
"We must make a hole, so that we can pour the water on the fire,"
explained Jack.
"Then go and make the hole," returned Mrs. Ruthven readily. "And please
be quick!"
"But, mother----" began St. John.
"St. John, they know more about putting out the fire than you do," was
the tart reply of the young man's parent. "Let them do as they wish."
"All right then," growled the unreasonable son. "But if the house burns
to the ground it will be their fault."
"It won't burn to the ground," answered Jack, and leaped up the ladder
again.
Soon our hero was chopping away at a lively rate. In the meantime the
others brought all the water possible to the scene.
When a hole was made in the roof the flames shot skyward for six or
eight feet. At this St. John uttered a loud cry, almost of exultation:
"There, what did I tell you? Now the house will be burnt to the ground
sure!"
"Lively with that water!" shouted Jack, ignoring him completely. And as
the pails and buckets came up in a stream, he dashed the contents where
they would do the most good.
It was perilous work, for the smoke rolled all around him, and more than
once he was in danger of suffocation. But the water now did much good,
and soon the flames began to go down.
"Hurrah! we have the fire under control!" shouted Larry.
It was true, and inside of quarter of an hour the last spark was put
out. Then Jack crawled to the ground, almost too weak to stand.
"Is it out?" asked Mrs. Ruthven anxiously.
"Yes," answered our hero.
"Oh, I am so glad!" and she caught Jack warmly by the hand. At heart she
was a true woman, and could appreciate what our hero had done for her.
St. John stood by in silence, hardly knowing what to say. At last he
shuffled into the house.
"The water has made an awful mess," he declared, later, to his mother.
"They needn't have drowned out the whole house like this."
"Don't say another word, St. John," answered his mother severely. "I am
thankful the fire is out, even if you are not." And then she turned away
to direct the servants in clearing away the muss that had been made.
The tide of battle had swept off in the direction of Jack's home, and
anxious to know how Marion and his foster mother were faring, our hero
soon after left Mrs. Mary Ruthven's plantation, and with him went Larry
Wilson and three others of the Guard.
From a distance came the constant cracking of rifles and the booming of
cannon.
"Let us take the short cut," suggested Jack, as he pushed across the
fields. "There can be no time to spare."
"It is hard to tell who is winning to-day," returned Larry. "At first I
thought the Yankees were in retreat."
"So did I, Larry. Well, we'll know how matters stand by night."
As they came in sight of our hero's home a Federal battery dashed into
sight, drawn by horses covered with foam. The battery was followed by a
regiment of infantry.
"Colonel Stanton's regiment!" cried Jack.
"They are in retreat!" answered Larry. "Look! our soldiers are coming
down the hill after them like mad!"
"There is Colonel Stanton on horseback," went on Jack, straining his
eyes. "What a fine figure he cuts!"
"Ba, Jack! how can you say that of a Yankee? I have half a mind to shoot
him."
As Larry spoke he raised his gun, but Jack pulled it down.
"Don't, Larry!"
"Why not? We are at war, and he is our enemy."
"I know, but----"
"But what? Are you too tender-hearted to be a real soldier?"
"It isn't that, Larry. Colonel Stanton is such a fine man----"
"Those Yankees killed Colonel Ruthven, don't forget that," went on Larry
earnestly. "We ought to bring down every one of them--if we can."
"Perhaps, but I would like to see Colonel Stanton spared--I cannot tell
why."
On swept the soldiers, and for the moment the Federals were hidden by
the smoke of gun fire. Then, as they reappeared, Jack set up a cry, half
of alarm.
"What is it?" queried Larry.
"Colonel Stanton is shot!"
"Shot? You are sure?"
"Yes. See, he has fallen over the neck of his horse and several soldiers
are running toward him. How sad! I wonder if he is dead?"
"If he is, it but serves him right, Jack."
"Perhaps; but I hope he isn't dead," answered Jack, with a peculiar look
in his anxious face. As the Federal colonel disappeared from view he
gave something of a groan, he could not tell why.