“Nothing but a one-horse engine and-and a bucket brigade, most likely!” Hugh replied, coughing in the smoke that came drifting between the trees.
Presently they emerged from the wood and came out upon the wide clearing in the center of which stood the farmhouse, the big red barn, and a group of smaller buildings. Before them lay a swampy meadow, evidently a hog-pasture, surrounded by a rail fence; on their right extended an orchard whose trees were heavy with green fruit; beyond that, a cornfield glistened in the sunlight; and, still further, acres of waving grain swayed lightly as the breeze passed over them. Strange to say, not an animal nor a human being save themselves was to be seen, and an uncanny silence reigned over the farm.
Hugh vaulted over the rail fence, followed by Spike, and together they began to pick their way as rapidly as possible across the pasture.
“Lucky thing this is swampy,” remarked Hugh, “because the fire won’t be able to crawl over this—ugh!—muck, and get near the barn.”
“No; but don’t forget it is creeping around from that side,” Spike answered gloomily. “There’s where the danger lies.”
“You’re right. But where on earth are the rest of the crowd? Is this place deserted?”
“Looks so, certainly. Hello! There’s someone coming from the house!”
Even as he spoke, an old woman appeared in the doorway and came forth, shading her eyes with one hand and blinking anxiously around her. Catching sight of the two youths as they ran toward her, she called out:
“Fer th’ land’s sake! More o’ yer! Boys, is it true there’s a fire broke out on ther mountain? Two boys an’ a wild-lookin’ man come along here, ’bout half an hour ago, yellin’ like demons from ther pit, and they scart me an’ my ol’ man out o’ our senses!”
“They told the truth, ma’am,” said Spike, with breathless politeness.