Sidney heard a shrill cry of mingled fear and pain, and, turning quickly, saw that which terrified him, for he knew full well Uncle Zenas must be seriously burned. Before there was time for the lad to speak, or even make the slightest move toward offering assistance, that portion of the boiling lard which had been spilled upon the stove burst into a flame, and instantly it was as if the entire kitchen was ablaze. "Help! Captain Eph! Everything is on fire, and Uncle Zenas is burnin' to death!" Fortunately Sidney remembered that water would be of no avail at such a time, and even while crying for help he caught up his coat which the cook had made for him, and threw it over Uncle Zenas. At the same moment Captain Eph began to descend the iron stairs at the best possible speed, and, on arriving at the landing immediately over the kitchen, saw that which caused him to believe the disaster was fully as great as Sidney had announced. In his eagerness he leaped, his feet struck the stair midway from the bottom, and down he came like a log, lying motionless on the floor as if he had been killed. "He's dead! He's dead!" Sidney screamed involuntarily in an agony of terror; but instinctively continuing his efforts to extinguish the flames which seemingly enveloped Uncle Zenas. Then occurred that which at any other time would have frightened the lad, even more than the apparently fatal series of accidents; but which in his terror seemed no more than the natural sequence of events. Mr. Peters, clad only in his under-clothes, came down the stairs so rapidly that it seemed as if he was sliding instead of running, and as he appeared Captain Eph staggered to his feet; but only to fall back upon the floor again with a shrill cry of pain. Hanging on the wall of the kitchen were the outer garments which Captain Eph and Uncle Zenas had worn when they went in search of the raft, and, gathering these in his arms, Mr. Peters threw them over the prostrate cook, smothering the flames, after which he dragged him, with no little difficulty, away from the stove. Sidney was doing all in his power to check the fire which rapidly crept out over the floor, and Mr. Peters shouted as he thus rescued Uncle Zenas: "The flour! The flour, Sonny! Throw it over the fat!" The pan in which Uncle Zenas had been mixing the dough was close at hand, and Sidney flung its contents upon the blaze, the sweet, sticky stuff acting like a blanket on the burning fat, but sending forth dense, stifling clouds of smoke. Delaying only sufficiently long to make certain that the cook was no longer in danger of being burned to death, Mr. Peters ran swiftly to the head of the stairs, closed the door in the floor, and then darted back to open the windows lest all hands be suffocated.