“Land!” laughed Mrs. Ellis. “Won’t he ever learn that I’m big enough and old enough to take care of myself. I never saw a Gilead wood fire yet that put me in any danger.” She stepped out of the doorway, pushed her spectacles up on her forehead and sniffed the air. “’Tis kind of smoky, ain’t it,” she said. “And the wind’s beginning to shift.” She looked up over the rise of the hill in front of the house. Above it poured great belching masses of lurid smoke. Even as she looked the huge wing-like mass veered and swayed in the sky like some vast shapes of genii. Jean caught her breath as she gazed, but Carlota said anxiously, “We must look out for the mare, she is frightened.” Ella Lou, for the first time since Jean had known her, showed signs of being really frightened. She was tugging back at the rope halter that held her to the post, her eyes showing the whites around them, and her nostrils wide with fear. Cousin Roxy went straight down to her, unhitched her deftly, and held her by the bridle, soothing her and talking as one would to a human being. “Jean, you go and get Cynthy quick as you can!” she called. Jean ran to the house and met Cynthy groping her way nervously downstairs. “What on earth is it?” she faltered. “Land, I ain’t had such a set-to with my heart in years. Is the fire comin’ this way? Where’s Roxy?” “She says for you to come right away. Please, please hurry up, Miss Allan.” But Cynthy sat down in a forlorn heap on the step, rocking her arms, and crying, piteously. “Oh, I never, never can leave them, my poor, precious darlings. Can’t you get them for me, Jean? There’s General Washington and Ethan Allen, Betsy Ross and Pocahontas, and there’s three new kittens in my yarn basket in the old garret over the ‘L.’” Jean realized that she meant her pet cats, dearer to her probably than any human being in the world. Supporting her gently, she got her out of the house, promising her she would find the cats. For the next five minutes, just at the most crucial moment, she hunted for the cats, and finally succeeded in coaxing all of them into meal bags. Every scurrying breeze brought down fluttering wisps of half burned leaves from the burning woods. The shouts of the men could be plainly heard calling to each other as they worked to keep the fire back from the valuable timber along the river front. “I think we’ve just about time to get by before the fire breaks through,” said Mrs. Ellis, calmly. Jean was on the back seat, one arm supporting old Cynthy, her other hand pacifying the rebellious captives in the bag. Carlota was on the front seat. She was very quiet and smiling a little. Jean thought how much she must resemble her mother, the young Contessa Bianca, who had been in full charge of the Red Cross Hospital, across the sea, for months.