“He’s going into a furnace! Somebody stop him!”
“Look! Look! You’ll never see him again.”
I opened my eyes. Judge Colfax’s long lean body, with its sloping shoulders, was in the doorway, as black as a tree against a sunset. I saw him duck his head down as if he meant to plough a path through the fire, and then a fat roll of smoke shut off all view of him.
“They’re both gone—him and the baby!” roared the depot master. “Lost! Both lost!”
The woman with the flying hair heard this and ran off again, screaming. I listened to the piercing voice of her and the roar and the clanging of bells. Horses came running up behind me, with heavy thuds of hoofs, and voices in chorus went up with every leap of the fire. It was like a delirium with the fever; and the grass, under my hands where I sat, felt moist and cool.
Then all of a sudden the shouting and noise all seemed to stop at once, so there was nothing but the snapping and crackle and hiss of the flames, and a voice of a little boy cried out:—
“The Judge is climbing down the porch! He’s got something in his arms!”
“It’s the baby!” yelled the depot master, throwing his hat on the ground. “He’s saved the baby!”
I began to cry again, and wondered why the people did not cheer. There was only a sort of mumble of little shouts and cries and oaths, and the people fell to one side and the other, as the Judge came toward me.
“Come, Margaret,” he said.