The Colfax chronicle., 1890-12-20

l suppose Jney wore wolves. one OF the
last things that mother did was to run
to the house for Molly, the cat, which
she fetched out in a pillowtick to put
in the fre-hole.
Meantime, the terrible roaring was
getting louder-nearer, and soon could
see fire through the woods. close down
to the earth.
''lt's time to GO I'M" father called out.
Then mother crept in, taking Mollie
in her bag, and the rest of us followed.
1t felt cooler at first in the hole, for
outside the heat from the fire had be-
come very uncomfortable. Soon father
crept in and lighted the lantern. He
then put the piece of board in position,
and reaching out one hand put sods and
earth on it outside, leaving an air hole
| no larger than his hand.
Inside we were all snuggled together
among our furniture, dishes. tinware
and other goods and by the faint light
of the lantern could see the cattle at
the further end of the cellar. The roar
| ing of the fire had strange, reverber-
| atory sound down under ground.
"You must try not to mind it, If it
grows very close and hot" father said
to us. ''You must try to bear it bravely
and keep from crying. will leave a
little hole open, so that we shall not
smother.p
| Then very soon after he said that
there came sound as if gusts of heavy
wind were striking on the low roof over
our heads, and we heard frightfui
cracking and the crash of trees falling
near by. Brilliant flashes of light
streamed in at the little hole near which
father stood, and the sense of awful
heat outside was borne in to us.
| We painted for breath.
| After long while, father said that
he hoped the worst of it was past. He
| told us that, of course, the house and
| barn must have been burned.
After q while he enlarged the hole at
| the entrance, and let in more air. We
did not venture to go out of our place Of
refuge. however, till about eight o'clock
the following morning.
A strange spectacle was then pre-
sented to our eyes. The forest on all
sides, far and near, was gone-burned
away! So intense had been the fire and
so fervent the heat, that the trees. ex-
cept very few of the largest tree
trunks. had been entirely consumed.
There was an open country, with bare
hills and valleys, on every hand. Our
clearing had been burned over, and of
our house and barn there did not remain
a single brand!
Nor was there now much smoke.
Every thing combustible had burned of
rapidly and completely. Our little gar
den and our small fields of potatoes, corn
and beans had disappeared.
| While we were gazing forlornly
around, whom should we espy but
neighbor Donley and his wife coming
over to see how we had passed through
the fiery ordeal. They greeted us warm
ly and were so CHEEKY that we ourselves
grew more hopeful.
Their experience had been much like
ours. We had great reason to feel
thankful to them for their efforts to
have us provided with fire-hole. Not
only did they live in theirs. but we also
lived in ours for several weeks. We had
no other habitation. All the poles and
logs for new cabins had to be drawn a
distance of fourteen or fifteen miles, Sc
completely had the fire swept off the
woods and timber from that entire sec
tion of country.
But the "great fire." as it is still
called, proved blessing after all, for il
cleared away the wilderness for us.
Father and neighbor Dorley had now
nothing to do save sow as much winter
wheat as they pleased on nicely pre-
pared ground. The following spring
we had seventy acres under cultivation,
and the year after three hundred acres.
That autumn father scld two thousand
bushels of wheat. A large, handsome
frame house soon took the place of our
log cabin.
Other farmers entered claims and
built houses in our vicinity. The days
of pioneering we're over forever for US.
But out in the smooth, green field tc
the left of our house, / can still see
from my window little hollow in the
sward where the old fire-hole was dug,
which remains to US all vivid memory
of the old pine forest smoky skies, red
suns, and at last that night of fire
when, in the quaint language of good
neighbor Donley and his wife, we were
compelled Ito take to the ground. y
Minna c. Hendricks, in Youths Com
panion.
COLOR OF CIGARS.