that ever beat.

After a bit, though, we gave up the idea of the huge platter and tried
little things. We made some platters--they were like flower-pot saucers;
and Alice made a bowl by doubling up her fists and getting Noel to slab
the clay on outside. Then they smoothed the thing inside and out with
wet fingers, and it was a bowl--at least they said it was. When we'd
made a lot of things we set them in the sun to dry, and then it seemed a
pity not to do the thing thoroughly. So we made a bonfire, and when it
had burned down we put our pots on the soft, white, hot ashes among the
little red sparks, and kicked the ashes over them and heaped more fuel
over the top. It was a fine fire.

Then tea-time seemed as if it ought to be near, and we decided to come
back next day and get our pots.

As we went home across the fields Dicky looked back and said:

"The bonfire's going pretty strong."

We looked. It was. Great flames were rising to heaven against the
evening sky. And we had left it a smouldering, flat heap.

"The clay must have caught alight," H. O. said. "Perhaps it's the kind
that burns. I know I've heard of fire-clay. And there's another sort you
can eat."

"Oh, shut up!" Dicky said, with anxious scorn.

With one accord we turned back. We all felt _the_ feeling--the one that
means something fatal being up and it being your fault.

"Perhaps," Alice said, "a beautiful young lady in a muslin dress was
passing by, and a spark flew on to her, and now she is rolling in agony
enveloped in flames."

We could not see the fire now, because of the corner of the wood, but we
hoped Alice was mistaken.

But when we got in sight of the scene of our pottering industry we saw
it was as bad nearly as Alice's wild dream. For the wooden fence leading
up to the bridge had caught fire, and it was burning like billyo.

Oswald started to run; so did the others. As he ran he said to himself,
"This is no time to think about your clothes. Oswald, be bold!"

And he was.

Arrived at the site of the conflagration, he saw that caps or straw hats
full of water, however quickly and perseveringly given, would never put
the bridge out, and his eventful past life made him know exactly the
sort of wigging you get for an accident like this.

So he said, "Dicky, soak your jacket and mine in the stream and chuck
them along. Alice, stand clear, or your silly girl's clothes'll catch as
sure as fate."

Dicky and Oswald tore off their jack