He rose, shook hands, and went away, leaving us looking at each other across the table.
“Cheerful place Arrowfield seems to be,” said Uncle Dick.
“Promises to be lively,” said Uncle Jack.
“What do you say, Cob?” cried Uncle Bob. “Shall we give up, be frightened, and run away like dogs with our tails between our legs?”
“No!” I cried, thumping the table with my fist. “I wouldn’t be frightened out of anything I felt to be right.”
“Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!” cried my uncles.
“At least I don’t think I would,” I said. “Perhaps I really am a coward after all.”
“Well,” said Uncle Dick, “I don’t feel like giving up for such a thing as this. I’d sooner buy pistols and guns and fight. It can’t be so bad as the old gentleman says. He’s only scaring us. There, it’s ten o’clock; you fellows are tired, and we want to breakfast early and go and see the works, so let’s get to bed.”
We were far enough out of the smoke for our bedrooms to be beautifully white and sweet, and I was delighted with mine, as I saw what a snug little place it was. I said “Good-night!” and had shut my door, when, going to my window, I drew aside the blind, and found that I was looking right down upon the town.
“Oh!” I ejaculated, and I ran out to the next room, which was Uncle Dick’s. “Look!” I cried. “Now you’ll believe me. The town is on fire.”