"St. John, they know more about putting out the fire than you do," was the tart reply of the young man's parent. "Let them do as they wish." "All right then," growled the unreasonable son. "But if the house burns to the ground it will be their fault." "It won't burn to the ground," answered Jack, and leaped up the ladder again. Soon our hero was chopping away at a lively rate. In the meantime the others brought all the water possible to the scene. When a hole was made in the roof the flames shot skyward for six or eight feet. At this St. John uttered a loud cry, almost of exultation: "There, what did I tell you? Now the house will be burnt to the ground sure!" "Lively with that water!" shouted Jack, ignoring him completely. And as the pails and buckets came up in a stream, he dashed the contents where they would do the most good. It was perilous work, for the smoke rolled all around him, and more than once he was in danger of suffocation. But the water now did much good, and soon the flames began to go down. "Hurrah! we have the fire under control!" shouted Larry. It was true, and inside of quarter of an hour the last spark was put out. Then Jack crawled to the ground, almost too weak to stand. "Is it out?" asked Mrs. Ruthven anxiously. "Yes," answered our hero. "Oh, I am so glad!" and she caught Jack warmly by the hand. At heart she was a true woman, and could appreciate what our hero had done for her. St. John stood by in silence, hardly knowing what to say. At last he shuffled into the house. "The water has made an awful mess," he declared, later, to his mother. "They needn't have drowned out the whole house like this." "Don't say another word, St. John," answered his mother severely. "I am thankful the fire is out, even if you are not." And then she turned away to direct the servants in clearing away the muss that had been made. The tide of battle had swept off in the direction of Jack's home, and anxious to know how Marion and his foster mother were faring, our hero soon after left Mrs. Mary Ruthven's plantation, and with him went Larry Wilson and three others of the Guard. From a distance came the constant cracking of rifles and the booming of cannon. "Let us take the short cut," suggested Jack, as he pushed across the fields. "There can be no time to spare." "It is hard to tell who is winning to-day," returned Larry. "At first I thought the Yankees were in retreat." "So did I, Larry. Well, we'll know how matters stand by night." As they came in sight of our hero's home a Federal battery dashed into sight, drawn by horses covered with foam. The battery was followed by a regiment of infantry. "Colonel Stanton's regiment!" cried Jack. "They are in retreat!" answered Larry. "Look! our soldiers are coming down the hill after them like mad!" "There is Colonel Stanton on horseback," went on Jack, straining his eyes. "What a fine figure he cuts!"