The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1886-02-24
pper. Now and then

supper. Now and then he
replenished it; att o'clock it was
still burning. He sat down on an old
stump to look at it asit leaped and flick
cred itself out, lighting up broad space
around it and shining on the high fence.
His wife had come out with shawl over
her head and watched it few minutes,
and gone in.
A spark from the subsiding fire snap
ped into little pile of dried stalks half
rod distant, and they famed up. A
twig took fire from them and burned to
its end, and loose splinter blazed in
its turn. He watched the curious little
line of light as it ate its Pickering way
along. There was small deposit of
dead leaves drifted up against the tall
fence; they took the alarm, and glowed
and cracked smartly. And then the flames
mounted up, and grew broader and red
der-the fence had caught fire.
Mr.. Talcott got up and walked over to
it. Then he turned, with scarcely the
haste which might have been looked for.
and started for the pump. He seemed
rather to linger on the way; when ha
reached it. he stood for moment with
out doing anything in particular before
he filled wooden pail, which lay near,
and went back with it. The fence was
flaming brightly; but he stopped to pick
out chi p which had got stuck into the
sole of his boot, and tied the old woolen
muff1cr he wore around his neck with
hands which were not quite steady.
Then he peered all about him, in an
oddly guilty way, emptied his pail Of
water on the ground, and went and sat
down on the stump again. He looked
cold and cross and uneasy, and anything
but heroic; but there was new-found
warmth within him.
There was quite a crowd about the
place half an hour later, looking at the
blackened remains of the line fence
several men, attracted ny the flames, and
few women hastily wrapped up.
Mr. Talcott had good deal to say
about the way it had happened. He
said bonfire was a plagued thing-you
never knew what it was going to do;
you couldn't feel safe with one if you
didn't watch it every minute. He dwclt
on the ineficacy of water when once a
fire had got started, and pointed to the
empty pail, where it lay on the ground,
in conclusive proof of the point.
Mr.. Long had come out and watched
the confagration from discreet distance.
But he had drawn gradually closer, till
he finally stood pok1ng over the warm
cinders with one foot. Mr.. Talcott stood
near by. They did not look at each
other for moment. Then the latter
spoke, in voice made high and sharp
by the greatness of the effort.
"Went down jest like paper" he said.
"I guess there couldn't anybody a-stop-
ped it. I couldn't do anything against
it-nothing at ALL" He felt that he re-
gained by this some Of the dignity
he had lost in his own conception; he
looked relieved.
His neighbor did not reply directly.
The darkness hid his softened perturbed
expression, and he was not the per-
son to make it manifest. His tone, when
he spoke, was composed and even con-
descending.
According to law" he said, II s'pose
I'm called on to put up the next one. |
s'pose I might do it any time; amt
so terrible busy jest as present."
"Well," said Mr.. Talcott, looking
down the garden, "I ruther guess you
better build apicket. guess apicket d
do full as we'll. You h'ain't heard how
old Lem Pearson is, have you2"-Emnao
4. Opper.