The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1883-08-10
A BRAVE GIRL.

voice.
Yes, Indy; what's wanted?"
/" Ma wants to know how long it'll be
fore you're ready
sob, tell her I'll be at the door by the I,
time she gets her things on. Be sure
you have the butter and eggs all ready
to put into the wagon. We're maxim
too late start to town.
Butter and eggs, indeed! As if Indy
needed a reminder other than the new
dress for which they were to be ex-
changed 3 Aaa
Elmer and can go to town next
time, can't we, ma?'' She asked, enter
ing the house. ..-
Eyes, Indy; l hope so, was the re-
ply. ''But don't bother me now; your
pa is coming already, and haven't my
shawl on yet. Yes, Wilbur; I'm here.
Just put this butter in, Indy; I'll car
ry the eggs in my lap. Now, Indy,
don't let Elmer play with the fire or
run away a.le,sg isa tta
And in q moment more the heavy
lumber wagon ratified away from the
door, and the children stood gazing aft
er it for awhile, in a half-forlorn man
ner. Then Indy went in to do her
work, Elmer resumed his play, and soon
everything was moving along as cheer
fully as ever.
After dinner, Elmer went to sleep, and
Indy, feeling rather lonely again, went
out-of-doors for change. 1t was q
warm autumnal day, almost the perfect
counterpart of a dozen or more which
had preceded it. The sun shone brightly,
and the hot winds that swept through
the tall grass made that and all else it
touched so dry that the prairie seemed
like a vast Undertook. Though her
parents had but lately moved to this
place, Indy was accustomed to the
prairies. She had been born on them,
and her eyes were familiar with nothing
else; yet, as she stood to-day with that
browr, unbroken expanse rolling away
before her until it reached the pale
bluiSh-gray Of the sky, the indescribable
feeling of awe and terrible solitude
which such a scene often inspires in one
not familiar with it stole gradually over
her. But Indy was far too practical
to remain long under such an influence.
The chickens were peeping" loudly,
and she remembered that they were still
without their dinner. .... .l.... .......
As she passed around the corner of
the house with dish of corn in her
hands, the wind almost lifted her from
the ground. 1t was certainly blowing
with greater violence than during the
morning.
Great tumble-weeds went flying by,
turning over and over with almost light
ning-like rapidly; then, pausing for an
instant's rest, were caught by another
gust and carried along, mile after mile,
till some fence or other obstacle was
reached, where they could pile up in
great drifts, and wait till brisk wind
from an opposite direction should send
them rolling and tumbling all the way
back. But Indy did not notice the
tumble-weeds. The dish of corn had
fallen from her hands, and she stood
looking straight ahead with wide-open,
terrified eyes. ...a .-.r 81
What was the sight that so frightened
her?
Only line of fire below the horizon.
Only line of fire, with forked flames
darling high into the air and cloud of
smoke drifting away from them. A
beautiful relief, this bright, changing
spectacle, from the brown monotony Of
the prairie. taa ST. ratf
But the scene, was without beauty for
Indy. Her heart had given one great
bound when she first saw the red line,
and then it seemed to cease beating.
She had seen many prairie fires; had
seen her father and other men fight
them, and she knew at once the danger
her home was in. What could she, a
little girl, do to save it, and perhaps
herself and her little brother, from the
destroyer which the south wind was
bringing straight toward themp aA .s
Only for moment Indy stood, white
and motionless; then with bound she
was at the well. Her course was de-
cided upon. If only time and strength
were given her! Drawing two pals of
water, she laid large bag in each, and
then, getting some matches, hurried out
beyond the stable. She must fight fire
with fire. That was her only hope; but
a strong, experienced man would have
shrunk from starting back-fire in such
a wind.
She fully realized the danger, but it
was possible escape from otherwise inA
evitable destruction, and she hesitated
not an instant to attempt it. Cautious
ly starting a blaze, she stood with wet
bag ready to smother the first unruly
fame aa as4 81.
The great fire to the southwark was
rapidly approaching. Prairie chickens
and other birds, driven from their nests,
were flying over, uttering distressed
cries. The air was full of smoke and
burnt grass, and the cracking of the
flames could plainly be heard. 1t was
a trying moment. The increased roar
of the advancing fire warned Indy
that she had but very little time in
which to complete the circle around
house and barn; still, if she hurried too
much, she would lose control of the
fire she had started, and with it all hope
of safety. s...a.
( The heat was intense, the smoke suf-
locating, the rapid swinging Of the
heavy bag most exhausting, but she
was unconscious of these things. The
extremity of the danger inspired her
with wonderful strength and endur-
ance. Instead of losing courage, she
increased her almost superhuman exer-
tions, and in another brief interval the
task was completed. None too soon
either, for the swiftly advancing col
umn had nearly reached the wagering,
struggling, slow-moEing line Indy had
sent out to meet it.
1t was a wild, fascinating, half terri
BILE, half beautiful scene. The tongues
of fame, leaping above each other with
airy, fantastic grace, seemed, cat-like,
to toy with their victims before devour-
ing them.
A sudden, violent gust of wind, and
then with great cracking roar the
two fires met, the flames shooting high
into the air as they rushnd together.
For one brief, glorious moment they
remained there, tapping the air with
their fierce, hot tongues; then, sudden
ly dropping. they died quickly out;
and where an instant before had been a
wall of fire was nothing now but a
cloud of blue smoke rising from the
blackened ground, and here and there
a sickly flame finishing an obstinate
fI1ff of orracs Tho fro IN aaob sida