of getting Amanda out of the house. He had intended boldly to put her in her brother's hands, but now he Idared not let the mob know she was there. He had seen among the faces Bill Holden's and Si Patterson's, and knew too well the principle of their lives and that of others to trust a woman to their madness, especially a woman who had in her past the history of one false step.

He was confident that Henri was crouching at the bottom of the stairs, and without daring to leave his post at the window, he spoke sharply his name, relying on his instinct of obedience.

He quickly realised, however, that his voice was lost in the babel. He was asking himself whether he could dart to the stair door and open it, and return in time to check the rush which would follow his movement, when a sudden note in the yellings of the mob told him that something new was on foot, and that that something pleased his assailants wonderfully.

The cries rose sharper and more triumphant, and out of the deeper darkness came a throng of men and boys each having in front of him a great bunch of hay or straw which he held between him and the house. There was a moment's consultation, and then one part of the throng rushed for the main door and the other for the side door. They came from opposite sides and not in face of the musket, and before he could act, they were out of line, running along the side of the house or the woodshed.

Before he fully realised their purpose, the bundles had been dropped, one mass at the one door, the other at the other, and a new throng of men was coming with another mass of hay and straw. He leaned forward to catch their purpose, and suddenly there shot up on

either hand a tongue of flame. Then, with a quick leap, came a roar of fire through straw and hay as dry as tinder. A wall of fire was blazing before each door! A steady stream of men and boys was already at work under its protection, piling new combustibles on to the flames.

Careless now of consequences, Ashgrave leaped back and threw open the door to the stairway. There, as he expected, crouched Henri, white with terror, but looking to him for directions and safety, as a dog looks to its master. He spoke with firmness to carry all possible weight of command:

"Crawl along the wall to the cellar door. Go through the cellar to the barn and get the horses and cattle into the back pasture. Be quick while they are busy with the fire."

He was back again at the window, from which he had not been missed. The flames were already catching the shingles of the low roof and licking, like tongues, the clapboards; catching, then dying out, then catching again with a stronger hold. He heard men behind the house, where they were stationed apparently to prevent escape in that direction. The way through the cellar was their only salvation.

Even amid the tumult, he heard a step on the stair and the rustle of a gown -the first token of his wife in their home! Without turning his head he said distinctly:

"Wait. They don't know you 're here. They mus n't see you. You must get away."

"And you?" There was a touch of softness and anxiety in the tone that made his heart leap.

You

"I too, of course; but not till the last moment. know the way through the cellar. Crawl to the cellar door, go to the barn, and help Henri get the horses and cattle out."

"And leave you here?" Yes, it was so! His heart beat as it had not under the stress of desire.

"They must n't guess. The house is gone and nothing can save the barn. We'll have nothing but the land and stock. We must save that."

There was a sob now.

"Oh Joe, give me one kiss before I go. I'm so sorry." That made the blood rush from his heart, and for the first time since the assault began, he nearly lost his head. The hot breath of the flames was licking at him through the windows, but that was nothing. He must have that kiss, come what would of it; but it should not endanger her.

"When you are on the cellar landing." He stood without turning, till there came her soft "Now."

He darted to the cellar, clasped her in his arms and took the kiss. Then he shut the door and turned softly the key, so that she should not hear. If he had dared leave his post, he would have fastened the door from the passage to the barn. At least he would do all in his power to prevent her return.

Then he took his place at the window again, determined to make show of defiance to the last moment possible, as the best means of giving time to save the stock and enable Amanda and the boy to escape.

CHAPTER XL

BLANKET INTERFERES

BLANKET had wandered round in the early evening

like a restless spirit. He was not of an assertive disposition, and the repulse he had received from the clergyman on Sunday did not encourage him to force a conflict with others. The groups of whispering boys and men indicated mischief, to which every one who had anything of power to stop it seemed strangely indifferent. Whenever he drew near one of these whispering groups, the whispering ceased and the men or boys moved off. Still, he caught enough of what was said to convince him that the Ashgrave farm was their objective point.

"Sech things hurts the good name o' the town, an' damages property," he confided to Peleg Singleton. "I hain't got no property, so I've got more call to look a'ter my good name."

Belief in the postmaster's official jealousy for the enforcement of law had taken Blanket to Singleton, only to encounter nice distinctions, the very existence of which he had not before suspected.

"Ef they was goin' to rob the U. S. mail or stop you carryin' it," he explained, "'t would be my duty as P. M. to do so'thin'. Ef they was goin' to murder you in yer private capacity, 't would be none o' my official business."

"Id 'no why they 'd want to murder me," said Blanket uneasily. "I hain't done 'em no harm."

"I war only usin' it es a illumination," Singleton explained loftily.

"Wall, don't illuminate thetaway any more,' cautioned Blanket. "I don't like it. Enyway," he added,

"you war hot enough at the meetin'."

"I war actin' thenes a church member an' a Christian." Blanket hunched himself up in his favourite attitude when his horse was resting, and drawled out:

"At what pint in yer career, or at what partic❜ler hour o' the day or night, du ye stop bein' a church member an' a Christian.

"I war speakin' officiously, not humanly," said the postmaster with dignity. "As a umble an' lowly follerer, I continue to be a Christian et all times, but officiously I'm one only when we be assembled an' met together."

"Wall, had n't you better du a little of the umble an' lowly jest at this pint, when the devil seems a breakin' out with a view to a cavortin' round in this community?"

Singleton gazed at the uncouth figure, while mild sorrow and the dignity of rebuke spread over his countenance.

"I'm sorry to perceive, Brother Blanket, the light an' friv'lus natur of your Christian experunce. These things is not lightly tu be spoke of. In my secret closet, I ken lay the matter at the footstool, an' ax Him to deal with it in His wisdom."

"An' in the meantime, the devil's business won't be shet up in no closet, but will be done in the marketplace, es it war. Hain't thar no way we c'n stop him fust? Hain't we got no duties as citizens an' tax-payers?" Blanket added the last word in recognition of the postmaster's position as a property owner. It struck him as somewhat flattering to the other's dignity.