“Calling! It isn’t anybody calling!” exclaimed Mrs. Blackford in a shrill whisper. “It’s burglars if it’s anybody. Get up, Amos, and drive ’em out. Call Joe to help you. He’s good and strong. He can handle almost as much as you can.”
But without waiting to call Joe, Mr. Blackford gave a jump out of bed and hurried down the stairs in the darkness. As he went down he became aware of a light in the back parlor—the room where stood his desk, which was like a safe to him, and the old clock where his wife insisted on keeping her small roll of bills, on the theory that burglars would never think of money being in a clock.
“It is some one,” muttered the deacon. “I’m glad I got up.”
He hurried on, taking no pains to muffle the “clap-clap” of the heels of his slippers, into which he had hurriedly thrust his feet. “Clap-clap” they went, down the stairs.
Just as he reached the door of the back parlor the deacon saw a form disappearing through the window. Who it was he could not see, as just then the heel of the person making an egress in this queer fashion hit and knocked over the lamp, which exploded with a slight noise, the burning oil setting fire to the carpet and the lace curtains.
For the moment the fear of fire was uppermost in the mind of the deacon. He saw the stream of blazing oil spreading, and he knew that in a few moments more the whole room would be ablaze.
But the deacon was quick, and, fortunately did not lose his presence of mind. He caught up a heavy rug, and, not going near enough the blaze to let his own thin night garments catch, he tossed the rug over the blaze, smothering it.
Then with a quick motion he tore down the burning lace curtains, and tossed them out of the open window, where they could harmlessly consume themselves on the grass. The deacon burned his hands slightly in pulling down the curtains, but he did not notice that in the excitement of the moment.
The fire was out almost as soon as it had started, for he had tossed the rug over burning lamp and all, and now only some dense black smoke remained to tell what had happened.
“Whew!” panted the deacon, “that was a close call! It’s a good thing I got up when I did, or the whole house would have gone! A narrow shave!”