Chapter 8

FIRE.

The snow was deep in the forest. It upholstered the gaunt branches of the giant trees; it clung tenaciously to the leafless twigs; it encrusted the millions of pine needles; it covered the rough mountain-sides: it piled up its crystals in the deep ravines, where the deer hid; it lay like a warm blanket over the wheat; it spread all over the land, a great white silence, through which the river and creek, spellbound, flowed without a murmur.

Thus it had lain for three months--December, January, February. The clouds, jealous of the sun and proud of their artistic skill in softening the face of Nature, grim and gaunt in her winter's sleep, came almost daily and sifted fresh snow upon that already fallen, which the winds and sun were in alliance to disfigure and soil.

March had just come. Each day the sun rose more confident of victory. Ere long he would succeed in making Nature look like an old wanton, her powdered face tear-streaked and unsightly.

On the last night of February the clock in Lizzi's room made one quick guess at the time, and brought her back from a flight of fancy. She was startled to see that it was one o'clock, and resumed the sewing that had lain neglected in her lap, while her thoughts roved.

She was sewing in secret, with the blind of the window down and her candle shaded. The garment she was fashioning was one of those almost shapeless infant robes that the inventive skill of dawning motherhood makes so diversely pretty and daintily ungraceful. She had begun to fold a plait in it, and paused to debate with herself on the size of the fold.

"If I was sure it would be a boy I'd make these pleats wider," she murmured.

From that her thoughts had wandered until she was recalled to her work by the striking of the clock. For another hour she worked diligently, then arose and put the sewing away where her mother would not be likely to find it. After that she blew out the candle and raised the blind for a last look that night at the store. The moonlight streamed into the window, dazzling her eyes accustomed to the candle-light. She shut them quickly in pain, and when she opened them a thrill of terror passed over her.

She saw a great column of smoke rising from the roof of the store, and a little flame leaping up through it.

The next moment, an axe in her hand, she was on the street.

"Fire! Fire! The store's on fire!"

Her clear voice rang wild and sharp on the still night air. The echoes mocked her.

"Colonel Hornberger, get up!"

With her axe's handle she rattled fierce blows on the front door of the proprietor's house.

"Help! Help!"

The echoes hurled back her voice mockingly:

"Help! ha, ha!"

"He is dead," she thought, "and the echoes are making fun of me."

Cry after cry she uttered in her anguish, fierce alarm-notes that aroused the heavy sleepers and brought them to the windows, only to hastily throw on some clothes and rush to the rescue, for they all knew that Gill slept in the store and even then might be dead.

Oh! Lizzi's strength! No longer screaming in terror, no more exhausting her breath by calling for help, she dealt mighty blows with the axe against the door of the office, above which her husband slept. Giant strokes, rapid, unerring, concentrated, made effective by the skill of a woodman, the strength of despair and the agony of love. Against them the door could not stand. It fell in, cut off its hinges. A great volume of smoke rolled out and beat her back.

A closed door separated the office from the store and was a barrier to the flames which were raging in the store-room.

Drawing a full breath and bowing low, Lizzi plunged into the office and reached the stair door. Well she knew the way. The door was closed, and she was so unnerved with joy that for a moment she clung to the latch and listened to the flames roaring in the store. She could see them through the window which give light from the office to the rear of the store, and they fascinated her. The heat cracked the glass in the window, and a tongue of flame leaped towards the opening made by a falling pane.

This recalled Lizzi to a sense of the danger and the need for urgent action. She jerked the door open, breaking the latch, and sped up the stairs, chased by a volume of smoke. To her horror it filled the room, else it was in her eyes. Thank God! she had brought the axe. Staggering to the windows, she smashed them both and knocked the shutters open, giving vent to the smoke.

She could not see Gill, but she knew just where he lay. With an effort she reached the bed. Her mouth was firmly closed, but her strength was almost gone Her trembling hands touched him. He was motionless.

Then when her heart had almost stopped and she was falling in a swoon, the flames burst into the room, lighting up Gill's face upturned and white. Uttering a scream, she caught him up in her arms, became strong again in desperation, and leaped recklessly down the stairs. Tottering with her burden into the street; she sank unconscious at the feet of Cassi, who, hearing her cries, had come running, the first to answer her call.

There had not been so much smoke in Gill's room as Lizzi had imagined, and he soon recovered consciousness in the cold air.

There was no hope for the store, and no one remembered the office books. A little presence of mind and prompt action on the part of first-comers might have saved them, but every one was so excited over Lizzi's daring and remarkable strength in saving Gill from a horrible death that all else was forgotten. Some ran for the doctor and others tried to restore her to consciousness, Colonel Hornberger encouraging them.

"Never mind the store," he exclaimed. "The fire is only making away with the old stock and giving Gill and me an excuse for a trip to the city. But save that brave girl if possible."

He tore off his coat and threw it over Lizzi, who lay on an improvised couch of store boxes, hastily placed together by willing hands.

"Heavens, what a woman!"

He uttered the words impulsively as he gazed admiringly upon her.

Other men followed his example, and they stood shivering, while their coats covered Lizzi.

She lay still. The weird red light of the roaring flames could not even tint her face, so white and cold it was.

Over her bent the man whose life she had saved. His face was firm, his eyes were dry, his pulse was steady. His only speech, a question spoken in a low tone, sent a thrill through the crowd, in which were now a number of women.

"Will the doctor never come?" he asked.

Coatless and inefficient, the men stood at a respectful distance from Lizzi, over whom Cassi bent, speaking to her in fond tones, and their stern silence checked the gabble of the women, who knew not what to do to restore her to life, but had suggested many things that night avail.

A shriek, the quavering cry of old age, nor piercing, but heart-rending, broke from the lips of Lizzi's mother, as half clad, she pushed feebly her way through the yielding crowd and fell across her daughter's body.

Colonel Hornberger put his arm around her and lifted her away from the boxes.

"Here, Gret Reed, you take charge of Mrs. McAnay. Go with her to my house."

Gret obeyed the excited proprietor, and as she supported the moaning woman along the street they met Hunch leading Blind Benner.

"She's dead!" Mrs. McAnay exclaimed. "My Lizzi's dead! my Lizzi's dead! Oh! oh!"

Blind Benner heard her and stopped. "Take me away, Hunch," he pleaded, "take me away."

Hunch turned towards the Block. Tears streamed from the blind man's eyes, and sobs choked him. After going a few steps he halted and faced the fire. Hunch, obedient to his every wish, let go the hand he shook as if to free it. They were near the fire, and its heat burned Blind Benner's face. Hunch stood with his back to it, watching its light on the snow-covered mountain.

A quick movement on the part of Bind Benner attracted his attention. He turned around and saw the blind man running straight to the fire. Shouting to him to stop, Hunch started after him, but he was running swiftly without stumbling, and there seemed small hope of catching him.

Gret looked over her shoulder on hearing Hunch's cries, and saw that Blind Benner meant to commit suicide. Clear as a bell her voice rang out in the only lie she ever told.

"Benner, you have passed the fire; turn back."

The doubt she raised checked him for only a moment, but long enough to bring Hunch upon him. In a twinkling his feet were knocked from under him and Hunch sat upon his prostrate form.

The messenger who had been sent for the doctor brought back word that he had not returned from a late call up Boomer Creek.

"My God, she will die!" Gill groaned, "and for me!"

His words scored sympathizing hearts and indented faithful memories.

The store building was dry as tinder and burned very rapidly. The roof had fallen in before Gill recovered consciousness, and soon after the walls toppled into the cellar.

The news of the doctor's absence sent a pang to the hearts of all, and hope for Lizzi was abandoned, she being beyond the restorative power of the water which had been dashed in her face.

A hastily constructed stretcher, made of two benches from the tavern fastened together, was brought, and Lizzi's limp form was laid upon it. Coats were her mattress, and coats her covering. Four strong men lifted the stretcher and headed the procession, which filed silently around the rapidly lessening blare. Gill and Cassi came next, walking arm in arm, the former wearing a coat that a brawny man had thrown over his shivering shoulders.

When the column came to where the front entrance of the store had been, Hunch and Blind Benner were struggling in the water made by the snow melting in the heat of the fire. "What's this?" sternly demanded Colonel Hornberger, who broke into a laugh before he received an answer. The fire excitement was still working in him.

"He tried ter burn hisself an' I wouldn't let him," Hunch replied.

"What did he want to do that for?" asked the Colonel.

"Cause Lizzi's dead."

Thus was told in simple words to the people of Three Sisters what Lizzi herself had not known, that Blind Benner loved her.

Simultaneously with this disclosure came the sound of a horse galloping over the Boomer Creek bridge. The horse came rapidly nearer, and soon his hoofs resounded from the long bridge that spanned the river.

It was a wild gallop, yet the horse ran as if some one sat him urging him on.

"The doctor," surmised every one, and the procession halted. Hunch voiced the general guess to Blind Benner, whom he yet held on the ground.

"The doctor's comin'. He'll bring Lizzi back ter life, see if he don't, Benner."

The blind man ceased struggling, and Hunch let him get on his feet, but watched him warily.

A shout of glad welcome greeted the familiar roan that "saddle-bags," as the Three-Sisters folk would call their physician, always rode when visiting distant patients or in response to urgent calls. The men who bore the stretcher set it down, in readiness for Dr. Barnes, as he reined his horse in the midst of the crowd of men and women who pressed dangerously near the excited animal. Strong hands seized the bridle and muscular arms almost pulled the physician from the saddle, while Colonel Hornberger graphically narrated the story of Gill's rescue and told of Lizzi's swoon which was like death.

"She's choked with the smoke, Lizzi is, and don't come to," said Cassi, piteously.

Garrulous women pushed forward to furnish the doctor with details of the rescue and praise Lizzi, but he would not listen to them. He pressed his ear to Lizzi's bosom and silence fell on the spectators. He raised his head, and they, eager, expectant, saw no encouragement in his face. From his pocket he produced a small mirror and wiped it dry with a silk handkerchief. He held it a moment over Lizzi's mouth and smiled.

The air quivered with shouts, the boisterous hurrahs of the men, the shrill huzzas of the women.