girls had plenty of matches, yet
they could not start a blaze without paper. It would take so long to
coax the great logs to kindle from the bits of trash. And Jeff dared
not go inside the tent for paper and kindling, for fear his mother
would discover what they were doing.

Miss Jenny Ann was growing more nervous every minute. "Hurry!" she
cried every few seconds. "I am sure those men will return before you
ever get the wretched place afire. What is taking you so long?"

"We have no paper to make the fire burn, Miss Jenny Ann," cried Phyllis
in desperation.

"Paper!" returned their chaperon in disgust. "Have you children lived
for two weeks on a desert island without learning to make what you have
serve for what you desire?"

Miss Jenny Ann slipped out of her white cotton petticoat and ran to the
house to present it to Phil. "Here, use this for paper," she insisted.
"I have on a heavy serge skirt and shall not miss it."

Cotton is almost as inflammable as paper. Carefully, Madge, Phil and
the deaf and dumb boy made another pile of little and big sticks just
outside the door they desired to burn down. Miss Jenny Ann's petticoat
lay, as a sacrifice, underneath the pyre. The skirt started a splendid
blaze. Madge and Phil fanned the flames gently toward the front door.
The chips caught, then the larger sticks, at last one of the logs of
the door smouldered and flamed.

It took only a short time to get a fair fire started. But it seemed a
long time to the workers--and a century to the man who waited inside.

He said nothing, gave no directions. He only walked up and down the
small room that held him fast like a caged lion.

Half of the lower log of the door burned away. Phyllis seized the ax.
It was easy to cut through the half burnt log. She made a hole large
enough to crawl through. The flame was only flickering about its
outside edges when she crept inside the house with her lap full of
sticks, and Madge's box of matches in her hand.

Madge saw her chum disappear into the house with horror. There was no
danger at the time. The front of the wooden house was burning slowly.
But if the entire front should blaze up, Phil, as well as Lieutenant
Lawton, might be imprisoned inside.

Phil was not in the least alarmed. Once inside the dark house she found
herself in a square room. A hall led out of it with a room on each
side. There was no question about which room was Jimmy Lawton's prison.
Heavy logs were braced ag