ass, which carried it
swiftly forward, leaving the burning cottage and the green garden in the
midst of a blackened waste.

The front verandah, and one side, were yet untouched, nor had the front
rooms caught. Wally raced through the garden and tried the front door.
It was locked. He sprang to the nearest window and smashed it with quick
blows from a hoe standing near; then, flinging up the sash, dived in.
The room was full of smoke, the heat stifling. It was Tommy's room. He
gathered up her little personal belongings from the dressing-table and
flung them on the quilt, following them with armfuls of clothes hastily
swept from shelves. A trunk, covered with a bright Navajo blanket, stood
near the window. He thrust it through to the verandah, and scrambled
out after it with the quilt and blankets bundled round the things he had
saved. Dragging them across the lawn, he thrust them under some green
bushes, and returned for the trunk.

"I don't believe you'll catch there," he said, choking. "Wonder if I can
try another room?"

He had opened the door from Tommy's room into the hall, but the rush of
flame and smoke were so appalling that he had to shut it again quickly,
realizing that the draught only helped the fire. To break in by another
window was the only way. He smashed his way in to the other front
room, and hurriedly gathered up all he could. There was no time to save
anything heavy. His quick mind guided him to the things he knew Bob and
Tommy valued most--things that had been Aunt Margaret's in the past,
that spoke of their old happy life in France. He spread an embroidered
cloth on the floor and pitched his treasure trove into it--working
feverishly, choking and gasping, until the flames began to crackle
through the wall, and the ceiling above him split across. Then he
plunged through the window, and staggered across the lawn with his
burden--falling beside it at last, spent and breathless, his throat
parched with smoke, and his eyes almost sightless. But he picked himself
up presently and went back. All the rooms were blazing now. The side
verandah had not yet caught, and on it he saw an old oaken chest that
did double duty as a seat and as a wardrobe for Bob's spare clothes. The
sight brought fresh energy back to Wally.

"By Jove, there's old Bob's box!" he uttered. "I'll have to get that."

He dragged it across the verandah and on to the path. It was cruelly
heavy. He had to stop and rest again and again; b