“Pity’s sakes, Cynthy, praise God that the two of us aren’t burning up this minute with those old shingles and rafters,” cried Mrs. Ellis, joyfully. “I could rise and sing the Doxology, water soaked as I am, and mean it more than I ever have in all of my life.” “Oh, and Miss Allan, not one of the cats got wet even,” Jean exclaimed, laughing, almost hysterically. “You don’t know what a time I had holding that bag up out of the water. Do turn around and look at the wonderful sight. See, Carlota!” But Carlota had jumped out of the wagon with Cousin Roxy, and the two of them were petting and tending Ella Lou, who stood trembling in every limb, her eyes still wide with fear. “You wonderful old heroine, you,” said Carlota, softly. “I think we all owe our lives to your courage.” “She’s a fine mare, if I do say so, God bless her.” Cousin Roxy unwound her old brown veil and used it to wipe off Ella Lou’s dripping neck and back. If her own cloak had been dry she would have laid it over her for a cover. The flames had reached the opposite shore, but while the smoke billowed across, Little River left them high and dry in the safety zone. “I guess we’d better be making for home as quick as we can,” said Cousin Roxy. Except for a little pallor around her lips, and an extra brightness to her eyes, no one could have told that she had just caught a glimpse of the Dark Angel’s pinions beside that river brink. She pushed back her wisps of wavy hair, climbed back into the wagon, and turned Ella Lou’s nose towards home. The Judge was watching anxiously, pacing up and down the long veranda with Billie sitting in his reed chair bolstered up with pillows beside him. He had telephoned repeatedly down to Greenacres, but they were all quite as anxious now as himself. It was Billie who first caught a sight of the team and its occupants. Kit had gone out into the kitchen to start dinner going. She had refused to believe that any harm could come to Cousin Roxy or anyone under her care, and at the sound of Billie’s voice, she glanced from the window, and caught sight of Jean’s familiar red cap. “Land alive, don’t hug me to death, all of you,” exclaimed Cousin Roxy. “Jean, you go and telephone to your mother right away, and relieve her anxiety. Like enough, she thinks we’re all burned to cinders by this time, and tell her she’d better have plenty of coffee and sandwiches made up to send over to the men in the woods. All us women will have our night’s work cut out for us.” It was the girls’ first experience of a country forest fire. All through the afternoon the fresh relays of men kept arriving from the nearby villages, and outlying farms, ready to relieve those who had been working through the morning. Up at the little white church, the old bell rope parted and Sally Peckham’s two little brothers distinguished themselves forever by climbing to the belfry, lying on their backs on the old beams, and taking their turns kicking the bell.