Now it often looks darkest just before daylight. That was the way in this case. The little group of refugees on the shore were all but ready to leap into the river, preferring death by drowning, as the flames swept nearer through the underbrush, snapping and crackling and spitting red sparks. The wind had veered upstream, driving the smoke with it, but the heat was fast becoming unbearable. The brown bunnies, huddling close together in their terror, were not built to swim at all. Fleet Foot, the spotted fawn, was yet too young for the water, having indeed acquired the art of walking but a few days before. While Mother Grouse Hen could have flown across, her chicks could not, and she of course would not leave them. All these stared with wide, hopeless eyes as the flames ate their way toward them. Their throats were parched and their hearts beat visibly. Mother Douglas Squirrel and her family were perched on the very tipmost branch of the tree nearest the water, and there they raged and scolded. Shadow Tail measured the distance to the nearest tree of the opposite shore, half tempted to try the leap at the risk of landing in mid-stream, but Mother Douglas was too wise to attempt it, for any squirrel with half an eye could have seen it was impossible. Then, suddenly, up the stream came creaking a broad, flat-bottomed row-boat, and at its oar locks sat the Boy from the Valley Farm and his sister,—the Little Girl on one side of the broad seat, he on the other. The two children being too small to aid the men with the fire-fighting, back along the Old Logging Road, had ventured up here on their own account, to see if any sparks had leaped across the river to the dry timber on the other side. Once they had seen a flying brand which the Boy had gone ashore to quench with mud from the river’s bank. Now they rounded the bend just in time to see Twinkly Eyes, the little Black Bear, and his passenger, Bobby Lynx, climb up the farther bank and dart off to hiding. “Oh, see!” cried the Girl, pityingly, as she saw the group on the river bank. “Let’s get ’em!” proposed the Boy. “Let’s!” agreed the Girl, and the pair rowed swiftly up the doomed right bank and began grabbing the trembling hares by their long brown ears, dropping them into the bottom of the boat. Once the leaders were aboard, some sign seemed to go the rounds, and the rest of the bunnies did not wait for assistance, but went scuttling over the side of the boat so fast that the children could scarce find a place to put their feet. At that instant a flaming branch fell hissing almost into the boat. “Pull out, quick!” gasped the Boy, swinging the boat around. “Oh, but the Fawn!” wailed the Girl. “We can’t leave the Fawn!” “We’ve got to!” commanded the boy, sternly, “or that whole tree will be down on us!” [Illustration: [Fleeing]] LII TWINKLY’S FELLOW REFUGEES