gain with Corben for a
fresh horse. Corben looked at the horse from which the Bishop had just
slid swiftly down. He demanded to know the Bishop's destination in the
hills--which was vague, and his business--which was still more vague.
He looked at the Bishop. He closed one eye and reviewed the whole
matter critically. Finally he guessed that the Bishop could have the
fresh horse if he bought and paid for it on the spot.

The Bishop explained that he did not have the money about him. Corben
believed that. The Bishop explained that he was the bishop of the
diocese. Corben did not believe that.

In the end the Bishop, chafing at the delay, persuaded the man to
believe him and to accept his surety for the horse. And taking food in
his pockets he pressed on into the high hills.

Already he had met wagons loaded with women and children on the road.
But he knew that they would be of those who lived nearest the fringe
of the hills. They would know little more than he did himself of the
origin of the fire or of what was going on up there under and beyond
that pall of smoke. So he did not stop to question them.

Now the road began to be dotted with these wagons of the fleeing ones,
and some seemed to have come far. Twice he stopped long enough to ask
a question or two. But their replies gave him no real knowledge of the
situation. They had been called from their beds in the early morning
by the fire. Their men had stayed, the women had fled with the
children. That was all they could tell.

As he came to Lansing Mountain, he met Ruth Lansing on Brom Bones
escorting Mrs. Whiting and Letitia Bascom. From this the Bishop knew
without asking that the fire was now coming near, for these women
would not have left their homes except in the nearness of danger.

In fact the two older women had only yielded to the most peremptory
authority, exercised by Ruth in the name of Jeffrey Whiting. Even to
the end gentle Letitia Bascom had rebelled vigorously against the idea
that Cassius Bascom, who was notoriously unable to look after himself
in the most ordinary things of life, should now be left behind on the
mere argument that he was a man.

The Bishop's first question concerned Jeffrey Whiting. Ruth told what
she knew. That a man had met herself and Jeffrey on the road
yesterday; that the man had brought news of strange men being seen in
the hills; that Jeffrey had ridden away with him toward Bald
Mountain.

The Bishop understood. Ba