January 14.
Last night Mr. Z. came to ask me to lend him a lantern every evening. I said I would with pleasure. He said he wanted to pull corn stalks at night, that Maud, his wife, could do it two hours every night and not waste daylight on it.
I said I thought if he worked all day it would be as much as he could do, but he could always get the lantern. He went on in a conversational way to say:—
"I've got a fine burn on them piles o' trash."
"I hope it is well out, Mr. Z. There is such a gale it is no time for burning trash. I hope you saw the fire entirely out."
"No, Ma'am," he said, "I've got it started good, an' it's burnin' fine."
I said not another word, but flew through the house to the pantry, seized the lantern and called to Dab to follow me. We ran at full speed to the barn-yard, where not 200 feet from the threshing mill (which cost $5000) and four large barns three bonfires were raging, the flames and sparks whirling and licking out in every direction up to high heaven, it seemed to me.
There was nothing to be done but watch until the piles burned down. Then I had Dab cover the lightwood posts and beams which Mr. Z. had put on to insure a good burn, with earth.
If I could have got at other hands I would have called them, but it is half a mile to the "street," and there was nothing to do but help Dab myself as much as I could. I had sent him for hoe and spade and shovel, and he worked splendidly.
Mr. Z. had followed me down, also his wife, though I begged her not to come out, having been so ill yesterday. He would not help in any way to put out the fire and kept saying the wind was blowing in the other direction.