"Surely there is smoke drifting across the path," said Mr. Prevost, "and I think I smell it also."
"I have thought so for some time," said Lord H----, who was now close to them with Edith. "Are fires common in these woods?"
"Not very," answered Mr. Prevost, "but the season has been unusually dry. Good heavens! I hope my fears are not prophetic: I've been thinking all day of what would become of the Lodge if the forest were to take fire."
"We had better ride on as fast as possible," said the nobleman; "for then, if the worst happens, we may be able to save some of your property."
"We must be cautious, we must be cautious," returned the other in a thoughtful tone. "Fire is a capricious element, and often runs in directions the least expected. I have heard of people getting so entangled in a burning wood as not to be able to escape."
"O yes," cried the negro; "when I were little boy, I remember quite well, Massa John Bostock, and five other men wid him, git in pine wood behind Albany, and it catch fire. He run here and dere, but it git all round him, and roast him up black as I be. I saw dem bring in what dey fancied was he, but it no better dan a great pine stump."
"If I remember," observed Lord H----, "we passed a high hill somewhere near this spot where we had a fine clear view over the whole of the woody region round. We had better make for that at once. The fire cannot yet have reached it, if my remembrance of the distance is correct; for though the wind sets towards us, the smoke is as yet anything but dense. It may be miles off, even beyond your house."
"Pray God it be so!" ejaculated Mr. Prevost, spurring forward; "but I fear it is nearer."
The rest followed as quickly as the stumps and the fallen trees would let them; and at the distance of half a mile began the ascent of the hill to which Lord H---- had alluded. As far as that spot the smoke had been growing denser and denser every moment; apparently pouring along the valley formed by that hill and another on the left, through which valley, let it be remarked, the small river in which Walter had been seen fishing by Sir William Johnson, but now a broad and very shallow stream, took its course onwards toward the Mohawk. As they began to ascend, however, the smoke decreased, and Edith exclaimed, joyfully,--
"I hope, dear father, the fire is farther to the north."