"Get to your bunks, you!" she cried in a voice that all could hear and in a tone that none could mistake.
Moving quickly about, she called to a half dozen men whom she knew best and liked, among them Gabe Smith.
"Stay here for a little while," she said after she had got them together. "Look round at the store and the corral and the bunkhouse to make sure there is no more danger of fire. Gabe, you take charge for to-night, and get these men to help. Make the others go to bed."
In half an hour the camp was in a state of comparative quiet. Nothing was left of the cook-camp but a heap of embers smouldering in the rain which was still falling steadily. Cherry found Gabe in the bunkhouse patiently arguing with three or four of the men who had ill-temperedly protested against going to bed at the command of anyone, much less that of a woman. She called him out to her.
"Let them sit up if they like, Gabe," she said with a smile. "The less trouble the better. Two or three of you had better stay round till daylight anyhow. I'm going to the cabin. I'll take my horse along and tether him under the tamaracs. If anything happens let me know. I'll lie down. The lamp will be lit, and I'll be ready to come out at once if you need me. Some one must go to town in the morning."
Gabe came up to her as she was about to leave.
"There's one thing, my girl," he said. "You'd better not leave your door unlocked. I can knock—"
"Don't be silly, Gabe," she interrupted quickly. "I'm not afraid."
"Well, take this," he said, drawing a revolver from his pocket and holding it towards her.
"Why, Gabe," she exclaimed, laughing at him, "what in the world are you going to do with that?"