more weird and
strange now than ever, and as if all the tales he had heard of it were
true.

For there it was coming and going and gliding up and down, as if
inviting him to follow it, while, as he seemed to feel that this was an
invitation, he shuddered and his brow grew cold and dank, for he
believed that to follow such a light would be to go direct to his death.

All the old legendary stories crowded into his mind as that light came
and went, and seemed to play here and there for what must have been half
an hour, when it disappeared. But as it passed away he saw another away
to his left, and he was watching this intently when he noticed that far
beyond there was a faint light visible; and feeling that this was the
first sign of the dawn, he turned to gaze at the will-o'-the-wisp again,
and watched it, shuddering as it seemed to approach, growing bolder as
it glided away.

"But that was not dawn--that," he said, "that faint light!" It was
growing stronger and it was nearer, and more like the rising of the sun,
or like--yes, it must be fire again.

Dick's heart leaped, and the chilly feeling of nervous dread and the
coldness of the temperature passed away, to give place to a sense of
excitement which made his blood dance in his veins and his cheeks flush.

He was not mistaken--he had had too much experience of late. It was
fire, and he asked himself whose turn it was now, and why, after the
long lapse from outrage, there should be another such a scene as that.

It was impossible to tell where the fire was, but it was a big
conflagration evidently, for it was lighting up the sky far more than
when he first observed it, but whether it was in the direction of his
home or toward the far end of the fen he could not tell.

He thought once that he might be mistaken, and that it was the
forerunner of the rising moon; but he was convinced directly that it was
fire he saw from the way in which it rose and fell and flickered softly
in the sky.

He must have been watching the glow for quite a couple of hours, and it
was evidently paling, and he was hopefully looking for another light--
that of day, when it seemed to him that he could hear the splashing of
water and the rustling of reeds.

The sounds ceased and began again more loudly, and at last they seemed
to be coming nearer, but passing him by--somewhere about a hundred yards
away.

The sounds ceased--began again--ceased--then sounded more loudly; and at
last,