all hands turned their attention to the spot
over the veranda. Here the flames had eaten under the gutter.

"We must have an ax!" exclaimed Jack, and one was quickly procured from
the woodpile.

"Hi! what are you going to do with that?" yelled St. John, as he caught
sight of the article.

"Going to chop a hole in the roof," answered our hero.

"How foolish! You'll make the fire worse."

"No, I won't--I know what I am doing, St. John."

"You shan't chop a hole in the roof," insisted the unreasonable young
man.

A cry of derision went up from half a dozen of the boys.

"Take a back seat, St. John," advised one. "You are too scared to know
what you are saying."

At this the spendthrift's face grew as red as a beet.

"Shut your tongue, Larry Wilson," he retorted. "I say you shan't chop a
hole in the roof. It will let the wind get to the flames."

"We want to get the water on the flames," replied Larry.

"And I say you shan't touch the roof with the ax!" screamed St. John. "I
command you to stop."

"All right then, we'll stop," said Larry, and Jack said the same. In a
moment more they were both on the ground, the other lads with them.

"Fo' de land sake, de house will burn up suah now!" groaned one of the
negroes.

"If it does, it will be St. John's fault," answered our hero. He was
thoroughly disgusted over the way St. John had acted.

"I'se gwine to tell de missus ob dis!" cried a second negro, and darted
away in search of Mrs. Mary Ruthven.

Soon the lady of the house came running out, with a bundle in one hand
and a box of jewelry in the other.

"What is this I hear, St. John?" she demanded.

"They want to chop in the roof, mother," he answered.

"We must make a hole, so that we can pour the water on the fire,"
explained Jack.

"Then go and make the hole," returned Mrs. Ruthven readily. "And please
be quick!"

"But, mother----" began St. John.

"St. John, they know more about putting out the fire than you do," was
the tart reply of the young man's parent. "Let them do as they wish."

"All right then," growled the unreasonable son. "But if the house burns
to the ground it will be their fault."

"It won't burn to the ground," answered Jack, and leaped up the ladder
again.

Soon our hero was chopping away at a lively rate. In the meantime the
others brought all the water possible to the scene.

When a hole was made in the roof the flames shot skyward for six or
eight feet. At this St. Jo