At that juncture a man came running to them from the direction of the fire. The Squire recognized him as the boss of the carpenters. “Mr. Britt is in that house. I saw him through a window. But it's a furnace from top to bottom.” The Squire opened his mouth as if query, urgently demanding utterance, had pried apart his jaws. “How do you think the fire--” But he promptly closed his mouth and set his lips tightly. He shook his head with the manner of one who did not require information. Then he turned and hurried to his house. Colonel Wincott and Xoa were on the porch, lighted by the great, red torch whose radiance was flung afar by the reflector aid of the fog. “It's Britt's house--and Britt is in it,” he told them. “Colonel, your man Friday had over many times one text that fits this thing. 'Can a man take fire into his bosom, and his clothing not be burned?'” He went to Xoa and patted her arm. “Better go inside, mother. It isn't a good thing to be looking at. Where are the children?” Frank and Vona answered that question by appearing in the door. They were honestly affected by the news the Squire gave them. Vona hid her face against the young man's breast. “It seems to be a self-operating proposition,” stated Colonel Wincott. “And about all anybody can do is to let it flicker!” Vaniman was clearly not the captain of his soul in those distressing circumstances. He was displaying symptoms of collapse. Squire Hexter noted and acted. “Wincott, this boy must not stay here in this town any longer. If that prison guard runs afoul of him before I get matters under way at the shire, Frank will be galloped back to his cell in order to make a grandstand play. I've got to be going. Take Frank under your wing. Get him over the border.” “Surest thing in the world!” declared the hearty colonel. “Got a hitch?” “My horse and double-seater. Come along to the stable--you, too, Frank. Xoa, bring him one of my coats and a hat!” Vona leaped away from her lover and faced the Squire. “I shall go with him, wherever he may go!” she said, with the fire of one who expected to meet opposition. But the Squire grinned. “Why, girl, of course you'll go! I wouldn't grab life-saving medicine away from a sick man. Take your mother along, and God bless the whole of you on the way.” That way was toward the north, on the heels of the wains and the flocks and the herds and the men and women and children of the migrating population of Egypt. Colonel Wincott occupied the front seat with Mrs. Harnden. By the time he had teamed the Squire's fat little nag along for a mile he had succeeded in calming Mrs. Harnden's hysterical spirits. He induced her to quit looking over her shoulder at the great torch that lighted luridly the heavens above the deserted town. “It's a pillar of fire by night, madam, as you say! But that's as far as it fits in with the Exodus sentiment. It's behind us--and behind us let it stay.”