The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1894-02-23

y
and do just as auntie says. The smoke
is so bad that you'll almost smother
up here. Come down to the cellar,
and stay there till get back. I'll be
gone only little while"
With the implicit confidence be
gotten of love Sammy replied:
eyes, aunty; us'll be veal good, an
not cwy any more when us gets way
from the nasty smoke. 1t hurts our
eyes awfulw
In an inclosed field back of the
house were Wilson's two farm
together with four COWS and six young
cattle belonging to both families, who
had lately begun to use this, the least
shriveled of the pastures in common.
Marie had determined to save the
dumb creatures if possible, and repay
ing each one of the twins parting
kisses with a hearty word of cheer,
she caught up a bride and hurried
out to the field. Here she found the
instinctively frightened animals hud-
died close in o fence-corner. Letting
down the bars and slipping the bride
on one of the horses, the practiced
girl sprang to his back, and, after
some trouble, succeeded in driving the
whole herd down to Pine River, lying
somewhat south of east and nearly
mile away.
Then, through binding smoke, she
rode at full speed back to the house,
intending to carry the children also to
the river. But by this time the front
Of the forest was roaring sea of fire.
The boundary fence had caught, and
great masses of burning leaves were
whirling over into the fields. The
heat was sitting; in a few short min
utes more the dwelling would be
wrapped in flames, yet the good horse
might yet save the three young lives.
Sliding to the ground, Marie threw
the reins over a post, dashed into the
house, jerked pair of blankets from
her own bed, soused them in tub of
water, folded them saddlewise on old
Dicks back, snatched up the children,
set them astride the horses shoulders,
and mounting behind them turned to
fly.
Too late! On glancing toward the
way whence she had just come, she
saw, to her dismay, that escape in that
direction was cut off, an advanced
tongue of overwhelming flame having
already crept across the path, while
on, and fearfully close now, came leap
ing waves Of fire, projected from the
forest.
What was to be done? The heat was
becoming intolerable and the horse
frantic. She could no longer hold the
boys to their seat she and they would
be thrown and, perhaps, killed on the
spot
} ooh, moaned the brave girl, "why
did [ not save the children at once and
let the poor cattle go?"
Twill us be burnt up auntie?" pitt
fully asked little Pete, as she scrambled
off theplunging horse with her precious
charges.
''No, no, mypets, you shall not be
burned" exclaimed Marie; for sud
denly there had flashed across hel
mind possible means of salvation.
Dragging the blankets to the GROUND
and freeing Dick from the bride, shC
struck him sharply across the quarter
} with it, when the intelligent beas
wheeled about and galloped away, for
; tunately due north, now the only SAT,
point; for, though he might run be
fore, and at first outstrip the pursuing
flames, they would quickly cross tn
intervening space and catch the un
! broken forest to the northeast Of tn,
farms.
, Connecting Moreau's with Wilson
S house was lane, sixty feet wide
bounded on either side by rail fence
1 and little way beyond Wilson Their
e was, as our heroine now recollected,
t milk-house, chambered deep in tn
+ slope of solid clay mound. Coul
the three reach this all would be well
y as it was absolutely impervious to fire
j. and by the time both houses and barn
were consumed, the grass and rail-fe
! flames would die out and leave tn
= fields passable for further flight
necessary.
/ Raising Pete in her arms, the gil
:, wrapped him and herself in one of tn
n wet blankets, enveloped Sammy in tn
Is other and, bidding him hold tight t
co. her, set off down the lane.
e But before they had gone one-ha
II Of its three hundred yards of length
the fence on the left caught fire, dri7
e ing them over to that on the right
n A little way farther they struggle