mself hoarse. The flame was already running up and over
the outer planking and curling down upon the thin snow of the shingled
roof as he ran around the small garden and saw the front door open and
Rivers come out. The rector said, "It is gone, John; I will go for your
uncle. Run over to the Wayne and call up the men. Tell them to get out my
books and what they can, but to run no risks. Quick, now! Wake up the
town."

There was little need, for some one at the inn had heard John's cries. In
a few minutes the village was awake and out of doors before Penhallow
arriving took charge and scattered men through the easily lighted pines,
in some dread of a forest fire. The snow on the floor of pine-needles and
on the laden trees was, however, as he soon saw, an insurance against the
peril from far-scattered sparks, and happily there was no wind. Little
of what was of any value was saved, and in the absence of water there was
nothing to do but to watch the fire complete its destructive work.

"There is nothing more we can do, Rivers," said Penhallow. "John was the
first to see it. We will talk about it to-morrow--not now--not here."

The three Grey Pine people stood apart while books and clothes and little
else were carried across the road and stored in the village houses. At
last the flames rose high in the air and for a few minutes as the roof
fell in, the beauty of the illumination was what impressed John and
Rivers. The Squire now and then gave quick orders or stood still in
thought. At last he said to the rector, "I want you to go to Grey Pine,
call up Mrs. Penhallow and tell her, and then go to bed. You will like
to stay here with me, John?"

"Yes, sir." The Squire walked away as Rivers left them.

"Fine sight, ain't it, Mr. John," said Billy, the one person who enjoyed
the fire.

"Yes," said John, absently intent on the red-lighted snow spaces and the
gigantic shadows of the thinly timbered verge of the forest as they were
and were not. Then there was a moment of alarm. An old birch, loosely
clad with dry, ragged bark stood near to the house. A flake of falling
fire fell on it. Instantly the whole trunk-cover blazed up with a roar
like that of a great beast in pain. It was sudden and for the instant
terrible, but the snow-laden leaves still left on it failed to take fire,
and what in summer would have been a calamity was at an end.

"Gosh!" exclaimed Billy, "didn't he howl?" John made no reply.

"Couldn't wake Pe