ng lithe branches he was in a
moment off the ground and in the tree; yes, and making
determinately for the top of it. The 'red squirrel' had not
learnt climbing for nothing; agile, steady, quick, he mounted
and mounted. She grew dizzy with looking. Mr. Falkirk had not
the same view.

'What's he doing? what are we waiting for? Can you see?' he
asked impatiently.

'Yes--they are trying to find out which way to go, sir.'

Mr. Falkirk made a movement as if to get out himself; then
checked it, seeing the helpless bevy of women who were
dependent on him and now in the utmost perturbation. Standing
still tried their nerves. To keep order withinside the coach
was as much as he could attend to. Cries and moans and
questions of involved incoherency, poured upon him. Would they
ever get home? would the fire catch the coach? would it
frighten the horses? what were they stopping for?--were some of
the simplest inquiries that Mr. Falkirk had to hear and
answer; in the midst of which one of the ladies assured
herself and him that if 'Isaiah had come along with them they
would never have got into such a fix.' Mrs. Saddler Mr.
Falkirk peremptorily silenced; the others he soothed as best
he might; and all the while Wych Hazel watched the signs
without, and followed the climber in the pine tree, following
him in his venturesome ascent and descent, which were both
made with no lack of daring. He was on the ground at last,
swinging himself from the end of a pine branch which he had
compelled into his service; he came straight to Mr. Falkirk,
heated, but mentally as cool as ever.

'I see our way,' he said, 'I am going on the box myself. Don't
be concerned. I have driven a post-coach in England.'

He looked across to Wych Hazel, as he spoke, and his eye
carried the promise again. Wych Hazel met his look, though
with no answer in her own; fear, or self-control, or something
back of both, made the very lines of her face still; only a
sort of shiver of feeling passed over them as he said, 'Don't
be concerned.' All this passes in a second; then Rollo is on
the box with the stage driver and the stage is in motion
again. But it is motion straight on to where Wych Hazel has
seen that the smoke is thickest. The horses go fast; they know
that another hand has the reins; the ground is swiftly
travelled over. Now the puffs of smoke roll out round and
defined from the burning woodland; and then, above the rattle
of wheels and tread of hoofs, i