"Me!" "We!" and Thure and Bud both sat up very straight. "Oh, we were just nodding our heads to keep time to your music. Please do sing again." For answer Mrs. Dickson lifted her face to the sparkling skies; and then, while the tears gathered in her own eyes and her sweet voice trembled a little, she sang that song dear to the hearts of all wanderers no matter where they roam, "Home, Sweet Home." "Now, good night, everybody. Come, Dick," and, turning quickly the moment she stopped singing, Mrs. Dickson caught hold of her husband's arm and hurried away before the spell of the song and the singer was broken. A half an hour later the lights in both the houses were out and their inmates sound asleep. CHAPTER XVII POCKFACE AGAIN Thure and Bud were very tired and very sleepy and both slept very soundly; but, when the door of their house was suddenly flung violently open some three hours after they had closed their eyes in sleep, and a voice, hoarse with excitement, yelled: "Fire! Fire! Fire!" they found themselves out of their bunks and on their feet and wide-awake almost before the startling cry ceased to echo in the room. "Where, where is the fire?" they heard Conroyal asking excitedly, as they hurried into their trousers and heavy boots--they had slept in their shirts. A moment later came a cry of horror from Ham in reply. "God in heaven!" he yelled. "It's Dickson's! Th' Leetle Woman!" and he plunged madly out through the door, followed by every other man in the house. Thure and Bud were close behind the last man. The moment they were outside their eyes caught the red glow of the fire shining wickedly through the openings between the pine trees that surrounded Dickson's little cabin, and raced madly toward it. The distance was not great, not over twenty rods; and they soon found themselves in front of the burning house. Dickson and his wife, half-dressed, were rushing madly about, empty water-pails in their hands. Already the red flames were leaping through one of the windows; and, as they looked, a heavy jet of black smoke, swiftly followed by a long tongue of fire, shot out from the roof above the flaming window. "Buckets! Buckets!" yelled Ham. "Form a line tew th' spring an' pass buckets of water from it tew th' house. Here, you," he cried, as his eyes caught sight of Thure and Bud, "back tew th' house an' git everything in it that'll hold water--pails, gold-pans, kettles, anything--Hurry!" Thure and Bud turned instantly and sped back to the house, their hearts thumping with excitement. They knew the value of moments in a case like this. Thure was a little longer-legged, a little the swifter runner, and he reached the open door perhaps a rod ahead of Bud and sprang through it, thinking only of how he could get hold of the kettles and the pails and the pans in the quickest manner possible.