But the old man paid no attention to him, and not pausing to question him again, but sure there was trouble of some sort at the cave, Davy ran toward that secret retreat.
His ears soon told him what the trouble was. The great pile of brush which concealed the entrance to the cave had been set on fire!
Terrible was the vengeance which the half-demented old man had taken on his boyish persecutors.
Davy, with a loud cry of horror, and forgetting in that awful moment all his own wrongs, seized a stout branch, and rushed upon the pile of brush without a moment’s hesitation.
The entire mouth of the cave was a mass of flame, and it was no easy matter to scatter the burning brands, so intense was the heat.
But Davy fought the fire right and left, with a wild energy far beyond his strength and years, and at last the mouth of the cave was clear, and the fresh air could enter it again.
Then, exhausted, faint, and suffering most intense agony from a dozen terrible burns, the brave boy sank to the ground.
At first he was scarcely conscious, but presently he became aware that some one was bending over him, and opening his eyes, he saw Fred Bassett’s face, so full of pity, admiration and kindness that poor Davy scarcely recognized it.
“We didn’t deserve this good turn of you, Davy,” said the boy. “But I can’t tell you how thankful we are to you. But for you we would have been suffocated inside of ten minutes. It was that old Sim who set the fire. We were busy at the back of the cave, making it deeper, and didn’t know anything about the fire until we heard the old man shout at us from the window overhead. He was half mad with joy, and was just about to light the brush on the window. He must have fired the pile in front in twenty places. There was no use in trying to get out. It was like a wall of fire. I tell you, we all thought our time had come. It was just awful.”
“I’m glad I came when I did,” said Davy, gently. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to help me home. My feet are so