Chapter XXI: Fighting the Flames

Never had "The Automobile Girls" displayed greater courage than at this critical moment. It was the time for quick action and quicker thought. The men who were digging the trench could not leave their work. They saw that, unless the trench were dug wider, it would be necessary to fight the flames back, and they were digging like mad to keep the fire from leaping the ditch again.

It was Mollie who saved them from a terrible explosion by remembering the house where the gasoline was stored just behind the garage, and John and Adam rolled the tank to a distance temporarily safe at least.

Bab had found a ladder somewhere. Placing it against the garage she had scaled it like a monkey, carrying under one arm a wet blanket the weight of which she was too excited to notice. She never quite knew how she shinned up the roof, but presently she found herself astride the pinnacle. Zerlina had followed close behind, with more blankets and together the two girls spread them over the smoking shingles. When the roof was covered, they let themselves down and began dashing water on the smouldering walls. The bucket brigade was working well under the direction of Ruth, and the garage was saved.

Then a line of clipped bushes running from the garden to the forest, suddenly burst into flames. A cry went up from the workers at this terrifying spectacle. To the girls, it seemed like a gigantic boa constrictor racing toward them, and, for a moment, they turned cold with fear.

"All hands must help here!" cried Bab, taking command, as she naturally did in times of danger. "Zerlina, tell the men to come from the trench with their shovels. Bring pails of water, all of you," she called to the Gypsies, "and the rest of the wet blankets."

There was a rush and a scramble. They tried to beat down the angry little flames, dashed water on to them, choked them with wet blankets, trampled on them, and finally fell back, stifled and blinded with smoke and ashes, only to find the gasoline house a burning mass. It had gone up like a tinder box in an instant, and was reduced to ruins.

"If we have any more gusts of wind like that last, Bab, we are lost!" cried Ruth, sobbing a little under her breath. "But, of course, if the worst happens, we can always take the automobiles. They can run faster than the flames."

Back of the garage they could see another line of flames advancing like a regiment of cavalry.

"Great heavens!" cried Grace. "What shall we do now?"

"Don't despair, yet," answered Bab. "Those dividing hedges are very dry, but the flames don't spread from them so quickly; and, besides, I believe the trench will stop them."

"O Bab," exclaimed Ruth, "do you think there will ever be an end to this? We are too tired to dig trenches, and the water is getting alarmingly low."

"But there are two more cisterns," replied the undaunted Bab.

Just then the wind, which, up to this time, except for a few brief gusts, had been merely a breeze, gathered new strength. Sparks began to fly from the burning underbrush in the wood. It had been a ground fire, owing to the long drought, and the trees still waved their green branches over the ruins at their feet.

Ruth seized Bab's hand convulsively.

"Young ladies!" called a voice behind them. Turning, they confronted the hermit. "I am a very old man, but, if you will permit me, I will make a suggestion. Save what water is left for the roof, which should be deluged as soon as possible. The trench will stop the fire, but it cannot keep back the sparks and I see a wind has come up that is most dangerous."

"Oh, thank you," cried the two girls, seeing the wisdom of his suggestion immediately.

Miss Sallie, a tragic spectacle, came from around the house; her white hair tumbling down her back, her face gray with ashes and her lavender garments torn and wet.

"Girls," she murmured, her voice trembling, from fatigue and excitement, "we have done all we could do for the major. I think we had better give it up and go while we can get away."

"Let us have one more chance. Aunt Sallie, dearest," begged Ruth, "and if that fails there will still be time to get away in the motor car."

"What are you going to do now, child?" asked the poor woman distractedly.

"You go and sit down in one of the long chairs on the piazza and rest," replied her niece, patting her hand tenderly, "and leave everything to us."

The girls could hear the throbbing of the pumping engine somewhere below, as they dashed up the steps. John had connected all the cisterns and the machinery was working in good order. The candles and lanterns they carried hardly made an impression in the blackness of the great empty garret, but an exclamation from John called attention to the fact that the sliding partition was down.

"I never knew it to happen before," he said, "except once when I was too small to understand."

"How are we going to manage?" asked Grace, looking overhead.

"Through the scuttle to the roof," replied Barbara, pointing to a ladder leading to a trapdoor.

John climbed up first, opening the scuttle, and everybody lent a hand in lifting out the hose he had brought along. Barbara and Zerlina followed to the roof, which was steep and much broken by pinnacles and turrets; yet in contrast with the attic it was quite light outside, and the girls could see perfectly where to step without slipping.

Only two people were needed, it was decided. Bab would not hear of Ruth's coming, on account of the latter's horror of high places. It was certain that Mollie and Grace were not agile enough for the experiment, and Bab and Zerlina had already proved what they could do when they scaled the garage roof.

The three girls left behind climbed onto a balcony just outside one of the attic windows and watched, with tremulous interest, what was happening on the roof.

Thus Zerlina and Barbara, with old John, were left alone on top of Ten Eyck Hall. They had a wonderful view of the smoking forest, the tops of whose trees were waving in the steadily rising wind. The trench had, indeed, stopped the course of the flames which had run along the meadow hedges, and there were no more lines of fire to be seen; but there was a bright glow toward the back and a sound of crackling wood. Then came a burst of flames and the onlooker saw that the stable was burning. A spark lit on Bab's wrist; another touched her on the cheek, and presently a gust of wind brought dozens of them twinkling like shooting stars at night. They fell on the shingled roof, smouldered for a moment and went out. Others followed. It could be only a matter of a little while, thought Bab, before the hall would be in flames if they were not prompt with the water.

"It's all right, Miss," called John's voice from behind the tank on the part of the roof over the attic. There was a gurgling noise and a swift jet of water burst from the nozzle of the hose.

With Zerlina's assistance, Bab began watering the roof. But the tallest peak was beyond reach of the hose. There the sparks were smouldering into life and Bab distinctly saw a a little puff of flame lick out and then go back again like a cunning animal biding its time.

Bab ran over to the tank.

"John," she called, "get a ladder and a pail."

Together they unhooked the ladder attached to the tank and dragged it over to the high center peak of the roof. There was a pail, also, which they filled with water. While the old man held the ladder Bab climbed up, taking the pail from Zerlina. Several times the brave girl dashed water over the smoking shingles until every spark was dead. Then, standing on one foot, on the top rung of the ladder, Bab braced herself with a lightning rod running up the side of the turret, and leaned over to see if all were well on its other section. Below her she could see the girls on the balcony peering up at her with frightened eyes. Lifting herself entirely off the ladder, for an instant, Bab glanced around the turret. In slipping back, her foot missed the rung. The shock made her lose her grip on the lightning rod, and like a flash she slid down the steepest part of the roof now slippery from its recent wetting. There was nothing to hold to, nothing to cling to, and she closed her eyes from the horror that was before her.

It is said that a great many things pass through one's mind at such brief, tense moments as these, when death is almost certain.

The thought that came to Bab's mind, however, was her mother's prayer, "Heaven make me calm in the face of danger."

There was, of course, a shudder of horror, a wild, ineffectual effort to save herself--a shock.

When she opened her eyes, three pairs of arms encircled her, and three sobbing faces hovered over her. She had landed upon the roof of the balcony where the girls were waiting. Except for a bruised arm, she had met with no harm.

"Why, girlies," she said, smiling a little weakly, "were you so frightened?" and then closed her eyes again.

Zerlina and John came tumbling down the ladder. The Gypsy girl was as white as a sheet and old John was openly sobbing.

"I'm all right," Bab assured them, standing up and shaking herself to bring her senses back. She bathed her throbbing wrists and temples, and all climbed down into the lower regions of the house. It was decided to water the side of the house, and after that nothing more could be done. The whole place was lit up with the burning stable, and sparks were flying in every direction. The wind had risen to a gale and the skies were overhung with a black canopy of clouds kindled by occasional flashes of lightning. There was a low grumbling sound of thunder. Down the avenue came the clatter of horses' hoofs. At the same time there was a terrific clap, and the rain poured down in torrents.

"Here they are!" cried the girls as Major Ten Eyck and the boys leaped from their horses and dashed up the piazza steps. José was not with them.