owing him about, like a young
scamp of a boy bent on tormenting him. The smoke was unusually
persistent on this particular night, until at last the laughter went
out of the girl's face, and she ran into his arms and covered his eyes
with her soft hands. Restlessly he tossed in his bunk, and buried his
face in the blanket that answered for a pillow. The smoke reached him;
even there, and he sneezed chokingly. In that instant Celie's face
disappeared. He sneezed again--and awoke.

In that moment his dazed senses adjusted themselves. The cabin was full
of smoke. It partly blinded him, but through it he could see tongues of
fire shooting toward the ceiling. He heard then the crackling of
burning pitch--a dull and consuming roar, and with a stifled cry he
leaped from his bunk and stood on his feet. Dazed by the smoke and
flame, he saw that there was not the hundredth part of a second to
lose. Shouting Celie's name he ran to her door, where the fire was
already beginning to shut him out. His first cry had awakened her and
she was facing the lurid glow of the flame as he rushed in. Almost
before she could comprehend what was happening he had wrapped one of
the heavy bear skins about her and had swept her into his arms. With
her face crushed against his breast he lowered his head and dashed back
into the fiery holocaust of the outer room. The cabin, with its
pitch-filled logs, was like a box made of tinder, and a score of men
could not have beat out the fire that was raging now. The wind beating
from the west had kept it from reaching the door opening into the
corral, but the pitch was hissing and smoking at the threshold as
Philip plunged through the blinding pall and fumbled for the latch.

Not ten seconds too soon did he stagger with his burden out into the
night. As the wind drove in through the open door the flames seemed to
burst in a sudden explosion and the cabin was a seething snarl of
flame. It burst through the window and out of the chimney and Philip's
path to the open gate was illumined by a fiery glow. Not until he had
passed beyond the stockade to the edge of the forest did he stop and
look back. Over their heads the wind wailed and moaned in the spruce
tops, but even above that sound came the roar of the fire. Against his
breast Philip heard a sobbing cry, and suddenly he held the girl
closer, and crushed his face down against hers, fighting to keep back
the horror that was gripping at his heart. Even as he fel