Naturally his neighbors gathered a little more closely about him, induced by curiosity.
“This evening,” said the squire, “I had a call from a man whom I knew slightly some years since in California. I didn’t remember him at first, but he managed to recall himself to my recollection. The poor fellow had been unlucky. He was miserably dressed, and appeared like a tramp. I gave him something in memory of old times, and at his request I allowed him to pass the night in the old barn. I didn’t think to caution him against smoking. I have no doubt he lighted his pipe, and somehow the fire was communicated to the hay on which he was probably lying. That probably accounts for the fire.”
“Then the man must have been burned in the fire!” exclaimed Ingalls, with an expression of horror.
“I am very much afraid of it,” said Mr. Simpson, with a nervous shudder.
“Poor fellow! It’s lucky you did not put him in the stable.”
“Indeed it is, for in that case the fire would inevitably have spread to the house, which would probably now be in ashes.”
“How happened it that you did not let him sleep in the stable?” asked Reuben Hunting.
“I was about to do so,” answered the squire, “when, for some reason which I cannot explain, I changed my mind and led him out to this old barn.”
“Did the thought of fire occur to you?” asked Hunting.
“I don’t think it did. It was a providential thought, as it seems to me now.”