Captain Holiday loosed my arm. "The wind's shifted," he said, in relief, watching the direction of those flames. Then, raising his voice, he added: "I say, Mr. Price, the wind's turned again. That'll be all right now, I think."
"All right, Captain Holiday; thank goodness," came from the farmer, turning his heated, school-boy's face with a look of relief also. "The fire will blow right away from the barn now. Quite safe now. Ah! I didn't think we should stop it. I thought it was done for, indeed! Leave it now, we can——"
For the flames, full fed, seemed to be sinking as suddenly as they had leapt.
The labourers, land girls, a detachment of wounded boys from the Hospital, and villagers drew back; faces were mopped, sleeves rolled down again, hands placed on hips, and deep ejaculations breathed out in Welsh and English.
"Well, oh!" ... "I never saw such a thing." "Saved more than three-quarters of the corn, whatever! ... In where did that fire start, Mr. Price?"
Then, quickly, a brusque voice rapped out curtly, "What the deuce is this? Mr. Price! Come here, will you? Look at this——"
"This" was something that Captain Holiday seemed to have found just within the opening to the big barn to which he had turned. A group of us pressed nearer to look.
"A very neatly arranged packet of shavings, by Jove!" came from Dick Holiday, on his knees. He sniffed. "Smelling of paraffin.... And here's another of 'em, and another! ... Mr. Price, where is the paraffin kept on this place?"
"I'll show you, Captain Holiday," said the farmer, perturbed.
He turned towards the house, followed by the two young officers from the Lodge, with the rest of us bringing up a straggling procession in the rear.