Waters released the hand of M’liss, and commenced mechanically to button his coat around his chest with fumbling, purposeless fingers. He then passed his hand across his forehead as if to clear his confused and bewildered brain; all this, however, to no better result than to apparently root his feet to the soil and to intensify the stupefaction which seemed to be creeping over him. “Be quick, now! You’ve no time to lose! Keep straight on through the woods until you see the stars again before you, and you’re on the other side of the ridge. What are you waiting for?” And M’liss stamped her little foot impatiently. An idea which had been struggling for expression at last seemed to dawn in his eyes. Something like a simpering blush crept over his face as he fumbled in his pocket. At last, drawing forth a twenty-dollar piece, he bashfully offered it to M’liss. In a twinkling the extended arm was stricken up, and the bright coin flew high in the air, and disappeared in the darkness. “Keep your money! I don’t want it. Don’t do that again!” said M’liss, highly excited, “or I’ll—I’ll—bite you!” Her wicked little white teeth flashed ominously as she said it. “Get off while you can. Look!” she added, pointing to a column of flame shooting up above the straggling mass of buildings in the village, “the jail is burning; and if that goes, the block will go with it. Before morning these woods will be filled with people. Save yourself while you can!” Waters turned and moved away in the darkness. “Keep straight on, and don’t waste a moment,” urged the child, as the man seemed still disposed to linger. “Trot now!” and in another moment he seemed to melt into the forest depths. M’liss threw her apron around her head, and coiled herself up at the root of a tree in something of her old fashion. She had prophesied truly of the probable extent of the fire. The fresh wind, whirling the sparks over the little settlement, had already fanned the single flame into the broad sheet which now glowed fiercely, defining the main street along its entire length. The breeze which fanned her cheek bore the crash of falling timbers and the shouts of terrified and anxious men. There were no engines in Smith’s Pocket, and the contest was unequal. Nothing but a change of wind could save the doomed settlement. The red glow lit up the dark cheek of M’liss and kindled a savage light in her black eyes. Relieved by the background of the sombre woods, she might have been a red-handed Nemesis looking over the city of Vengeance. As the long tongues of flame licked the broad colonnade of the National Hotel, and shot a wreathing pillar of fire and smoke high into the air, M’liss extended her tiny fist and shook it at the burning building with an inspiration that at the moment seemed to transfigure her.