But no one came, and for long hours Bud Goble sat there, listening and peering into the darkness, and in momentary expectation of hearing or seeing something alarming. About midnight, however, the excitement began. At that hour Bud mustered up courage enough to start on a trip around the cabin, and when he got to the back of it, where he could look through the tops of the trees toward Mr. Riley's house, he stopped as if he had suddenly been deprived of the power to go a step farther. The sky in that direction was glowing with a brighter red than he had ever seen at sunset, and the longer he looked at it, the brighter it grew. Beyond a doubt Mr. Riley's house was on fire. When this thought flashed through Bud's mind, the cold chills crept all over him, and instead of hastening to render what assistance he could in saving the planter's property, he turned and ran into the cabin, banging the door behind him, and dropped the heavy bar to its place. "Good lands!" exclaimed Mrs. Goble, whom her husband, in his excitement and terror had upset, chair and all, in front of the fireplace. "Don't stop to talk, old woman," said Bud, in a hoarse whisper, "but get up an' fly around an' do something. The outbreak has come like I told you it would. Riley's house is a mask of fire. If you don't b'lieve it peep through this yer crack." For a minute or two the deep silence that reigned in the cabin was broken only by the hurried breathing of its frightened inmates, and then there came a sound from the outside--a quick, heavy step on the hard ground, followed by the fumbling of a hand for the latchstring. Bud's face grew as white as a sheet, his knees trembled under him, and the muzzle of his rifle, which he tried to point toward the door, covered every square foot of surface on that side of the cabin in two seconds' time. "Who's there?" he demanded, in quavering tones. "Speak up, for there's a bullet comin' right through the door where you stand." "What's the matter of the fule?" inquired the man on the outside; and Bud recognized the voice of one of his friends. "Lemme in." Bud was only too glad to comply. He threw up the bar, opened the door, and Silas Walker same in the man who held his rifle in the store while he was making ready to punish Mr. Bailey for refusing him credit. Bud was glad to see that he was not the only one who had been alarmed and excited by that blaze in the sky. Silas's face had no color in it to speak of, and he trembled as he moved across the floor. "How did you get home so quick?" were the first words he spoke. "Who? Me?" cried Bud. "I've been home sense noon; aint I, old woman?" "Then who done it?" questioned Silas. "Done what?" "Set the elder's house on fire." Bud was astounded, and so was his wife. The former looked sharply at his visitor for a moment, and then backed toward the nearest chair. "Isn't it Riley's house?" he gasped.