"Mr. Jenkins told me that a man some ten miles from here had his stacks and house and every thing he had, destroyed, a few days since, losing his whole year's labour and all his clothing and furniture. The family barely escaped with their lives. "Is there any danger that the fire will come here, husband?" said Mrs. Allis. "There is danger, I suppose; but I hope we shall have no trouble of that kind." "Is there nothing that can be done to protect your property?" "I shall try to _burn_ up what grows around the house and stack-yard in a day or two, I think; but just now it does not seem possible for me to spare the time." One day, not long after, a long line of fire appeared on the prairie, several miles distant. It was, however, so distant that Mrs. Allis and the children did not feel alarmed, as the evening was still; and they were watching it with interest, as the flames assumed various fantastic shapes, now darting upwards like tongues of fire, and now weltering and bubbling like a sea of melted lava. Mr. Allis had not yet returned from town, where he had been engaged all that day, entirely unsuspicious of any approaching calamity; and Mrs. Allis was not aware how rapidly the flames were approaching her home, until she was startled by seeing a horseman ride rapidly to her door and hastily dismount, inquiring for Mr. Allis. "He is at ----. I expect him home in the course of an hour or so. But what is the matter, Mr. Jenkins? Is anybody sick?" "Matter, woman! Don't you see that prairie-fire yonder? You'll be burnt out if you don't stir round lively." "Burnt out, Mr. Jenkins! What do you mean? What shall we do?" "Do? Why, we must go to work right away and set a _back-fire_,--as quick as we can, too. Call your girl there, and come out both of you as soon as possible!" Not many minutes passed before Mr. Allis reached home. He had seen the fire at a distance, and, understanding the danger far better than his wife, hurried home as rapidly as possible. Poor Annie and Susie were sadly frightened. When they saw the smoke and fire so near the house and stacks of grain, they cried as if their little hearts would break; but there was no one to hear them, for their mother could not be spared a moment until the danger was past. Poor children! They soon had enough of prairie-fires, and they thought they would be very thankful if ever they could see their father and mother and Mary alive again. Sometimes they were almost suffocated by the smoke which the rising wind drove into the house, and then they thought they should surely be burned to death. Still, lonely and frightened as they were, they did not attempt to go out. They remembered that their mother had told them not on _any account_ to leave the house, and, like obedient children, they did as she had told them.