et any of us off.
It strikes at the living through their dead."

The dead-house, fortunately empty, was consumed, the headboards and
crosses were burned, the trees were scorched and blackened, the graves
were seared: all the life which the years had drawn from the entombed
ashes was laid again in ashes.

After a horrible suspense these graveyard campers saw the fiery tide
recede from their quarters and sweep on to the north. Then came on the
weird, elfinish night, that mockery of day, when, except in the
direction of the lake, great mountains of fire loomed up on every side
against the horizon, so that one felt environed, besieged, engirdled by
horrors.

"Try to get some sleep," said Dr. Lively to his wife when the torrent
had swept by to the north.

"Sleep!" said Mrs. Lively. "How can anybody sleep with these terrible
fires all around? It seems to me as if I were in some part of the
infernal regions. I shall always know after this how hell looks."

"I don't think the fire will trouble us any more to-night, but I'll
watch: there will be plenty of watchers, indeed, to give the alarm. Lie
down and try to get some rest."

"Where in the world is anybody to lie? On a grave? What in the world are
you eating?" continued Mrs. Lively, turning on Napoleon.

"_Shoemake_" answered the boy. "Want some?"

Mrs. Lively took some of the crimson, acrid berries and put them in her
mouth.

"You're hungry," said the father compassionately.

"Awful," answered the lad.

"Where are you going?" asked the mother as he started off.

"To bed," he replied, and he stretched himself out on a piece of carpet
where half a dozen children were sleeping.

"Now do, Priscilla, lie down and try to sleep," the husband insisted.

"How under the stars do you suppose I could sleep with hunger and thirst
gnawing at the pit of my stomach? Do let me alone: I want to try to
think out something--to plan for the future. What under the sun is to
become of us?"

"My dear," said the doctor, "don't worry about the future. I'll take
care of it some way, if the fire will ever let us out of our present
prison. We have our lives, our hands and our heads, and we must thank
God."

"Heads! I feel as if I'd lost mine. I think sometimes that I'm insane."

"Oh no: you ain't of the kind that go insane."

"I suppose you mean by that I've got no feelings, no sensibility."

"No, I don't mean that;" and Dr. Lively became silent, as though it was
useless to prolo