Carolyn of the Corners Part 44

The door swung open. The poor furniture was in place. Even the bedclothing was rumpled in the old woman's bunk. But neither she nor Amanda Parlow nor little Carolyn May was there.

CHAPTER XXVI-THE LAUREL TO THE BRAVE

The heart of the man was like a weight in his bosom. With so many hundred acres of forest on fire, and that, too, between the abandoned camp and The Corners and Sunrise Cove, how would Amanda Parlow and Carolyn May know where to go?

In what direction would they run? There was no stream of any size near this camp. Water had been obtained from easily driven wells. Mr. Stagg could not imagine in that first few minutes of alarm how the fugitives could have got away from the camp.

Smoke hung in a heavy cloud over the clearing. The smell of burning wood was very strong.

To go was, perhaps, the wisest thing Amanda and her charges could have done, for once the fire got into this opening the place would soon become a raging furnace.

The great heaps of sawdust and rubbish, as dry as tinder, offered fuel for the flames unsurpa.s.sed elsewhere in the forest. This clearing, three or four acres in extent, would be the hottest part of the fire, if once the wind rose and blew the conflagration in its direction. Mr. Stagg climbed to the roof of the cabin to look over the open s.p.a.ce. He shouted at the top of his voice. But he neither saw nor heard anything. His voice came back in a flat echo from the forest wall across the clearing-that was all.

There was no way of trailing the fugitives-he knew that well enough. Of course, there were plenty of cartwheel tracks; but they told nothing of interest to the troubled hardware dealer.

He slid down from the roof and went again into the cabin. Certainly the place must have been deserted in haste. There was Carolyn May's coat.

The man caught it up and stared around, as though expecting the child to be within sight.

The old woman's clothing was scattered about, too. It did not look as though anything had been removed from the hut. Coming out, he found another article on the threshold-one of Amanda's gloves.

Joseph Stagg picked it up eagerly and stood for a moment or two holding it in his hand as he gazed from the doorway upon the empty prospect.

Then he lifted the crumpled glove to his lips.

"Oh, G.o.d, spare her!" he burst forth. "Spare them both!"

Then he kissed the glove again and hid it away in the inner pocket of his vest.

The hardware dealer tried to think of just what the fugitives might have done when they escaped from the cabin. Surely, they would not start for The Corners by the main road-that would take them directly towards the fire. Joseph Stagg had too good an opinion of Amanda Parlow's common sense to believe that.

And what would they do with the sick woman-how take her with them? She was crippled and could travel neither far nor fast.

This disappearance suggested to the man's mind one certain fact: Something had already happened to the fugitives; some accident had befallen them.

The thought almost overpowered him. He was chilled to the heart. Despair made him helpless for the moment. He could think of nothing further to do. He seemed to have come to an impa.s.sable barrier.

The sight of poor Cherry, standing with heaving sides and hanging head, awoke him. He started into action once more and hurried to the horse.

Taking him out of the harness, he rubbed him down with a coa.r.s.e sack.

Then he found a pail at the cabin and brought the animal a drink. Once more he put him back into the shafts and prepared to move on.

If it were true that Amanda would not run towards the fire, then she more than likely had taken the opposite direction on leaving the cabin.

Therefore, Joseph Stagg went that way-setting off down the tote road, leading Cherry by his bridle.

Suddenly he remembered calling Prince the day Carolyn May had been lost on the ice. He raised his voice in a mighty shout for the dog now.

"Prince! Princey, old boy! where are you?"

Again and again he called, but there was no reply. The smoke was more stifling and the heat more intense every minute. As he reached the far edge of the clearing he looked back to see a huge tree break into flame on the opposite side of the open s.p.a.ce.

The camp would soon be a furnace of flame!

Joseph Stagg was not fearful for himself. He knew a dozen paths out of this part of the forest. But he could not leave without finding the fugitives or learning the way of their departure.

The forest here was like a jungle on both sides of the tote road. Once let the fire get into it, it would burn with the intense heat of a blast furnace. Mr. Stagg realised that he must get out quickly if he would save himself and the horse.

He had just stepped into the buckboard again, when there was an excited scrambling in the underbrush, and a welcoming bark was given.

"Prince! Good boy!" the man shouted. "Where are they?"

The excited dog flew at him, leaping on the buckboard so as to reach him. The mongrel was delighted, and showed it as plainly as a dumb brute could.

But he was anxious, too. He leaped back to the ground, ran a little ahead, and then looked back to see if the man was following. The hardware dealer shouted to him again:

"Go ahead, Princey! We're coming!"

He picked up the reins and Cherry started. The dog, barking his satisfaction, ran on ahead and struck into a side path which led down a glade. Joseph Stagg knew immediately where this path led to. There was a spring and a small mora.s.s in the bottom of the hollow.

"Bless me!" he thought, "once this fire gets to going, the heat will lick up that spring in a mouthful."

He forced Cherry into the path. It was somewhat difficult to push through with the buckboard. Prince still barked, running ahead.

"Go on! Good dog!" cried Mr. Stagg. "Lead the way to Hannah's Car'lyn!"

He heard the little girl screaming: "Oh, Uncle Joe! Oh, Uncle Joe! Here we are!"

Cherry rattled the buckboard down to the bottom of the hollow and stopped. There was some smoke here, but not much. The man leaped to the ground when he saw a figure rise up from the foot of a tree by the spring-a figure in brown.

"Joseph! Thank G.o.d!" murmured Amanda.

The hardware dealer strode to her. She had put out both her hands to him, and he saw that they were trembling, and that tears filled her great brown eyes.

"Oh, Joe!" she said, "I feared you would come too late!"

"But I'm here, Mandy, and I'm not too late!" he cried; and, somehow-neither of them could, perhaps, have explained just how-his arms went around her and her hands rested on his shoulders, while she looked earnestly into his face.

"Oh, Joe! Joe!" It was like a surrendering sob.

"It's not too late, is it, Mandy? Say it isn't too late!" he pleaded.

"No, it's not too late," she whispered. "If-if we're not too old."

"Old!" almost shouted Joseph Stagg. "I don't remember of ever feeling so young as I do right now!" and suddenly he stooped and kissed her. "Bless me! what fools we've been all this time!"

"Oh, Uncle Joe! Oh, Miss Amanda!" cried Carolyn May, standing before them, and pointing with a rather grimy index finger. "You aren't mad at each other any more, are you? Oh, I am so glad! so glad!" and her face showed her pleasure.