saw flames a yard long shooting
toward them through widening breaches in the logs. And a steady roar began.
It was nearly over now, although close to the floor the air was still good.

He reflected that, with the enormous amount of wood here, this fire would
rage hotter and hotter for hours until the stones themselves would be red
hot or white hot and--there would be nothing left when it all was over,
absolutely nothing left but ashes. No one would ever know their fate.

Then he thought of his mother. He wished he might have sent her a
line--still she would know that her boy had fallen in a good cause, as his
father had fallen. He needn't worry about his mother--she would know.

Now another log crumbled with a sharp crackling. Alice stirred uneasily and
opened her eyes. Then she sat up quickly, and there was something in her
face Coquenil had never seen there, something he had never seen in any
face.

"Willie, you naughty, naughty boy!" she cried. "You have taken my beautiful
dolly. Poor little Esmeralda! You threw her up on that shelf, Willie; yes,
you did."

Then, before Coquenil could prevent it, she slipped out from behind the
shelter and stood up in the fire-bound chamber.

"Come back!" he cried, reaching after her, but the girl evaded him.

"There it is, on that shelf," she went on positively, and, following her
finger, Coquenil saw, what he had not noticed before, a massive stone shelf
jutting out from the wall just over the wood pile. "You must get my dolly,"
she ordered.

"Certainly, I'll get it," said M. Paul soothingly. "Come back here
and--I'll get your dolly."

She stamped her foot in displeasure. "Not at all; I don't _like_ this
place. It's a hot, _nasty_ place and--come"--she caught Coquenil's
hand--"we'll go out where the fairies are. That's a _much_ nicer place to
play, Willie."

Here there came to M. Paul an urging of mysterious guidance, as if an
inward voice had spoken to him and said that God was trying to save them,
that He had put wisdom in this girl's mouth and that he must listen.

"All right," he said, "we'll go and play where the fairies are, but--how do
we get there?"

"Through the door under the shelf. You know _perfectly_ well, Willie!"

"Yes," he agreed, "I know about the door, but--I forget how to get it
open."

"Silly!" She stamped her foot again. "You push on that stone thing under
the shelf."

Shading his eyes against the glare, Coquenil looked at the shelf and saw
t