It was nearly five o’clock when Tommy returned. Even though he was only twelve, he had certainly done a man-sized job that day. He was grimy and smoky, but exuberant.
“By golly, we’ve got her under control,” he cried. “Got some milk and doughnuts for a guy? Who do you suppose worked better than anybody? Gave us all pointers on how to manage a fire. He says this is just a little fire compared with the ones he has up home. He says he’s seen a forest fire twenty miles wide, sweeping over the mountains.”
“Who do you mean, Tommy?” asked Jean. “For gosh sakes, quit elaborating and come to the point.”
“Who do you suppose I mean?” asked Tommy reproachfully. “Buzzy Hancock’s cousin, your Ralph McRae from Saskatoon.”
Jean blushed prettily, as she always did when Ralph’s name was mentioned. She hadn’t spent as much time with Ralph since his arrival as she had wanted to owing to Billie’s illness. Still, oddly enough, even Tommy’s high praise of him made her feel shyly happy.
The fire burned fitfully for three days, breaking out unexpectedly in new spots and keeping everyone excited and busy. The old Ames barn went up in smoke, and Mr. Rudemeir’s sawmill caught fire three times.
“Whew!” he said, jubilantly, “I guess I sat out on that roof all night long, slapping sparks with a wet mop, but it didn’t get ahead of me.”
Lucy Peckham and Kit ran a sort of pony express, riding horseback from house to house, carrying food and coffee over to the men who were scattered nearly four miles around the fire-swept area. Ralph and Sally ran their own rescue work at the north end of town. Buzzy had been put on the mail truck with Mr. Rickett’s eldest boy, while the former gave his services on the volunteer fire corps. The end of the third day Jean was driving back from Nantic after a load of groceries when she noticed Ralph turning on to the main road ahead of her. She stopped the car beside him and asked him to get in.
“The fire’s all out,” he said. “We have left some of the boys on guard yet, in case it may be smouldering in the underbrush. I have just been telling Rudemeir and the other men, if they’d learn to pile their brush the way we do up home, they would be able to control these little fires in no time. You girls must be awfully tired out. You did splendid work.”
“Kit and Lucy did, you mean,” answered Jean. “All I did was to help cook.” She laughed. “I never dreamed that men and boys could eat so many doughnuts and cupcakes. Becky says she sent over twenty-two loaves of gingerbread, not counting all the other stuff. Was anyone hurt, at all?”