“Start at the south-west corner, Harry,” George shouted as he drove past. “You go east. I’ll go north.”
The brothers did as arranged. They were able to reach the south-west corner of the farm ahead of the fire, and by ploughing a guard north and east they formed a wedge to divide the fire. The stookers had reached the scene by this time, and ran ahead of the horses, throwing the stooks out of the way. Mr. Grant started a back-fire, which steadily widened the strip of bare land between the approaching enemy and the fruit of their year’s labours.
The Grant farm was safe, but the fire had been spread rather than controlled. It now raced away to the east and north, destroying every unprotected thing in its path. The wind seemed to rise as the flames gained headway, but above the roaring of the fire and the crackle of the wheat could be heard the rumble of wagons galloping along the smoke-obscured roads. All the threshers and harvesters within range were hurrying to give their assistance, but indeed it was little they could do. Further away, but still in the path of the fire, farmers were ploughing guards and settling out back-fires, and it was not until these were reached that the flames finally burned themselves out.
News of the fire had soon reached the little town of Plainville, and business men of all classes did not hesitate to close their stores and shops and drive to the scene of the conflagration in wagons, buggies and automobiles. It was little assistance they could give at best, but there is a satisfaction and a suggestion of heroism in even appearing to assist. And the face of a merchant looming up through the smoke that enveloped a farmer’s building might be the drawing card which would establish another good account on that merchant’s books.
When the telephone brought the first word of the fire Gardiner hitched up his horse and buggy and drove straight to the Grant homestead, but before he arrived the fire zone had swept onward. Some one said that young Mrs. Delt was alone at the mercy of the fire, as her husband was away assisting a distant neighbour, and Gardiner at once whipped his horse in that direction. Heavy banks of smoke lay across the road, and at places it was with difficulty he could fill his lungs with air. Suddenly, in such a smoke-cloud, his horse threw itself back on the brechin, and Gardiner fancied he heard a girl’s voice raised in alarm. Springing out, he went to the horse’s head, and could there distinguish the form of a woman now standing by the side of the road.
“Why, Miss Vane! What are you doing here?”
“I might answer with the same question, Mr. Gardiner, if there were time to play with words. But I want to ride with you to poor Mrs. Delt’s. Come, let’s hurry.”
“Just where I was going,” said Gardiner. “I might have known I would find you wherever an errand of mercy called.”
“The crack of that whip would sound better than a compliment just now, Mr. Gardiner. There may not be a moment to lose.”
The young man answered by urging his horse to a run, and in a few moments they were at Mrs. Delt’s door.