The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1877-10-13
HOW SUSIE WENT TO THE FIRE.

Just at the meeting place of a wide
prairie and deep forest, stood, many
years ago, little log house. When it
was first built, the many inhabitants of
the region had watched its erection with
wonder and disapprobation. The SOUR.
rels paused in their frisking to regard it
with bright, cogitative eyes. The birds
fitted from tree to tree, chattering to
each other, and asking what these strange
objects were, and if their coming meant
danger to their nestlings. The prairie
wolves howled around at night, and the
deer, three or four at time, bounded
past with their antlers high in air, as
if they disdained so homely and lonely a
! thing. The forest trees tossed their
heads and bowed toward the little log
hut, saying: "It is very ugly; and i'm
mediately ripple ran all over the prairie
grass, and it answered. "Quite true;
we never saw anything so unsightly be-
fore" But the strange beings who had
come to disturb them kept on at their
labor, and soon the cabin was completed.
Within dwelt a little girl by the name
of Susie. She did not live alone, for the
house was full, with her parents and
older brothers and sisters. But my story
is of her, the youngest and the pet of all.
1t would take long to tell to city girls
of to-day how Susie lived and knew what
it was to be happy. Much as would
like to describe them to you, i must pass
by the woodland rambles, and keep to
myself the secrets the forest told and the
birds sang and the wild bees hummed to
her, and how she knew and loved the
prairie flowers and the wind which chased
over the grass-I must omit all that for
the sake of telling one little adventure
which befell her.
When the log house had stood in its
place about three years, and had been
clasped and covered by the clinging
arms of the forest vines, Susie noticed
one afternoon great commotion in the
household. The neighbors who lived
nearest came and talked to her father
out in the meadow with hurried, excited
voices. Her brothers FASTENED to put on
their heavy boots and stout leather nit
tens. While her mother and sisters went
round with troubled faces, all the men hur-
ried off together to the prairie how far she
could not see in the gathering darkness.
Soon after, the wind, which came in
slight puffs from the direction in which
they had gone, brought with it the smell
of smoke.
"Say, mamma, where has papa gone,
and what makes everybody look so
frlghtened?" said Susie, pressing close to
her mothers side, with the sobs coming
in her voice.
"Susie, dear, don't be frightened
don't cry, but be mammals little woman.
1t is prairie fire, and papa and the boys
have gone to help put it out"
will it come here, mamma-will it
burn our house?"
"No, dear, l hope not. 1t is long
way off, and the men will burn some of
the grass not far from the fields, so that
when the big fire gets there it will stop,
because there will be nothing for it to
burn; and then, if it does get on this side
and come near the corn and wheat, they
will beat it with great sticks, and stamp
ON it, and put it out in that way"
Then her mother hurried away to see
that coffee was made and food prepared
for the men, who would be up all night.
Susie stood at the door in the darkness
and looked toward the south, where she
saw, far away, a dull red CLEAN, which
sometimes flashed up brightly, but more
often seemed to her excited fancy ike
great, fiery snake, crawling toward her
home. Out here lay her fathers corn
fields, and there came the dreadful fire,
ready to devour them.
Then a thought flashed into her mind.
Susie was a courageous little girl, and
had energy enough for two. Perhaps
she might help to put out the firel Her
mother and sisters were too busy to no.
tice her movements. Without pausing
to think what mamma might wish her to
do, she ran through the door.yard, and
was soon making her way across the
meadow toward the corn-fields. They
seemed long way off and her feet were
too little to carry her fast, but she
trudged bravely on. AT last she reached
the end of the field and locked out on
the broad prairie Susie was little
girl, but all her life long she never for
got her first view of prairie on fire.
Stretching out of sight on either hand
was red line of flame rising toward the
sky, and covering it with Il dense cloud
of smoke. The sparks flew in every d.
rection, and many, yes, very many, were
brought by occasional putts of wind near
to where she stood. Between her and
the fred snake" as it seemed to her,
| hlacx foures with climbs in their hands