“Like burning grass or leaves?”
Marian’s face paled. “Sherm, that’s exactly what it is! What can we do? And the menfolks all away except Jim Bart, and he’s gone to Benton’s on an 303errand. He’ll be back in a few minutes though.”
“Don’t worry, Marian,” said Jane, “if it’s a prairie fire it’s miles and miles off. It must be on the other side of Little John. It can never cross the creek–besides, the wind is blowing the wrong way for it to sweep down on us.”
“That’s so–but the wind might change any minute, and in a gale like this I’m not so sure it might not jump Little John. I do wish Frank had finished that back-firing.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be possible to do it until the wind lulls, but Mrs. Morton, I’ll sit up and watch to-night–at least until the wind goes down. It often falls about midnight,” said Sherm, looking troubled.
“It looks to me as if we were in for a three-days’ blow,” Marian replied despondently. “But I’d be much obliged if you would, Sherm, I don’t quite like to ask Jim Bart to, for he’s had such a hard day. Do you think you can keep awake? And, Chicken Little, don’t let on to Mother–we mustn’t worry her.”
“Sherm,” said Jane, after they went into the house, “I’m going to stay up, too; I’ll slip down again after Mother goes to bed. It’s a lot easier for two people to keep awake than one.”
“No, Chicken Little, I don’t believe you’d better. Your mother wouldn’t like it. And we’d be dead sure to laugh or talk loud enough for her to hear 304us. I hope the wind will go down early. If it doesn’t and I find I can’t stay awake, I’ll call you and let you watch while I doze on the couch here.”
Jane stayed up as late as her mother would let her, and Sherm made the excuse of having special studying to do, to sit up later. After Mrs. Morton had retired he made frequent excursions to the hill top. A lurid glare lit up the horizon to the northwest. He could still catch the tang of smoke and whiffs of burning grass, but these were not so pungent as earlier in the evening. The fire seemed farther away. By eleven, the glare was decidedly fainter and the wind had subsided noticeably. At twelve, he concluded it was safe to go to bed.
Chicken Little waking about two, stole down stairs and finding everything dark, made the rounds of the windows, but the distant fire showed only a faint glow in the night.