from half
consumed tufts of moss and old stumps of great trees were all
that was left of the army of fire that had marched that way.

The horses were brought back to a moderate going. A quieting
of the storm within accompanied the passing away of the storm
without. Fairly overcome now, dizzy besides with the almost
flaming current which had blown full against her in that last
charge through the fire, Wych Hazel drooped her head lower and
lower till it rested on the sill of the window; but no one
marked just then. The women were drying their eyes and
uttering little jets of excited or thankful exclamation. Mr.
Falkirk watched from his window what was to be done next.

'We'll have to put up, if it be onconvenient,' said the
driver. 'Can't ask a team to do _more'n_ that at a time, sir.
'Tain't no tavern, neither--but there's Siah Sullivan's; he's
got fodder, and food, allays, for a friend in need.'

'How far is Lupin?' called out Mr. Falkirk. 'Aren't we on the
Lupin road?'

'Na--it's a good bit 'tother side o' that 'ere flamin'
pandemony, sir, Lupin's.'

'No it isn't! I mean Lupin, where Braddock's mill used to be--
old John Braddock's.'

' 'Taint called Lupin now,' observed the driver,--'that ere's
West Lupinus. Wal--John Braddock's there now; it's four or five
mile straight ahead.'

'We can go there,' said Rollo. 'That will give us the best
chance.'

Gently they took those three or four miles. The open country
to which they soon came, getting out of the woods, looked very
lovely and peaceful to them; the fire had not been there, and
quiet sunshine lay along the fields. In the last mile or two
the fields gave place again to broken country; a brawling
stream was heard and seen by intervals, black and chafing over
a rocky bed. Then the road descended sharply, among thick
leafage, fresh and fair, not pine needles; and finally at the
bottom of the descent the stage stopped.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE MILL FLOOR.

The place was a dell in the woods, the bottom filled with a
dark, clear little lake. At the lower end of it stood the
mill; picturesque enough under the trees, with its great doors
opening upon the lake. On the floor within could be seen the
bags of flour and grain piled about, and the miller passing to
and fro. It was deeply still; the light came cool and green
through the oaks and maples and ashes; the trickling of water
was heard. Dark slept the little lake, overshadowed by the
leafy banks which s