"Come!" Jeanne pulled her out with her strong young arms, and tried to slip a gown over the shaking figure that opposed her efforts.
"I will not go," she cried. "I know, you want to take me away from dear old Detroit. I heard something the Sieur Angelot said. O Jeanne, the good Father in Heaven sent you back once. Do not go again—"
"The street is all on fire. Oh, Margot, help me, or we shall be burned to death. Pani, dear, we must fly."
"Where is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed a sturdy voice. "Jeanne, if you do not escape now—see, the flames have struck the house."
It was the tall, strong form of Pierre De Ber, and he caught her in his arms.
"No, no! O Pierre, take Pani. She is dazed. I can follow. Cover her with a blanket, so," and Jeanne, having struggled away, threw the blanket about the woman. Pierre caught her up. "Come, follow behind me. Do not let go. O Jeanne, you must be saved."
Pani was too surprised for any resistance. She was not a heavy burthen, and he took her up easily.
"Hold to my arm. There is such a crowd. And the smoke is stifling. O Jeanne! if you should come to harm!" and almost he was tempted to drop the Indian woman, but he knew Jeanne would not leave her.
"I am here. O Pierre, how good you are!" and the praise was like a draught of wine to him.
The flames flashed hither and thither though there was little wind. But the close houses fed it, and in many places there were inflammable stores. Now and then an explosion of powder shot up in the air. Where one fancied one's self out of danger the fire came racing on swift wings.