“It will be the range land, I take it, if it's on this side,” Sir Redmond remarked.
Just then a man thundered through the lane and up to the very steps of the porch, and when he stopped the horse he was riding leaned forward and his legs shook with exhaustion.
“The Pine Ridge Range is afire, Mr. Lansell,” the man announced quietly.
Dick took a long pull at his cigar and threw it away. “Have the boys throw some barrels and sacks into a wagon—and git!” He went inside and grabbed his hat, and when he turned Sir Redmond was at his elbow.
“I'm going, too, Dick,” cried Beatrice, who always seemed to hear anything that promised excitement. “I never saw a prairie-fire in my life.”
“It's ten miles off,” said Dick shortly, taking the steps at a jump.
“I don't care if it's twenty—I'm going. Sir Redmond, wait for me!”
“Be-atrice!” cried her mother detainingly; but Beatrice was gone to get ready. A quick job she made of it; she threw a dark skirt over her thin, white one, slipped into the nearest jacket, snatched her riding-gauntlets off a chair where she had thrown them, and then couldn't find her hat. That, however, did not trouble her. Down in the hall she appropriated one of Dick's, off the hall tree, and announced herself ready. Sir Redmond laughed, caught her hand, and they raced together down to the stables before her mother had fully grasped the situation.
“Isn't Rex saddled, Dick?”
Dick, his foot in the stirrup, stopped long enough to glance over his shoulder at her. “You ready so soon? Jim, saddle Rex for Miss Lansell.” He swung up into the saddle.