Chapter III: A Blessing and a Threat

From end to end of the great hay barn the roof was now wrapped in flames. Now the stacks at the rear began blazing. The entire building was doomed to destruction. In the meantime, Miss Elting, having dragged the woman to a point of safety, was working to revive her. So engrossed was she that, for the moment, all thought of Harriet Burrell escaped her until she was reminded of Harriet by Tommy.

"Where ith Harriet?" piped Tommy.

"Harriet? Oh!" gasped the guardian.

Tommy understood without further explanation and darted toward the barn, with Miss Elting running after her to bring her back. But there was no stopping Tommy when once she had started to carry out a resolve. She ran to the barn on winged feet and plunged into the dense cloud of smoke that issued from the burning barn. The little girl had no idea what she would do when she got there, and perhaps she might have been injured before Miss Elting reached her, had Tommy not fallen accidently over Harriet. The latter was unconscious from the smoke she had inhaled. Tommy grabbed her by the arms and began dragging her out. The little girl had gotten to the door with her burden as Miss Elting reached the scene.

"Brave Tommy!" cried the guardian. "You shall have a whole string of Camp Girls' beads for this. Let Harriet lie where she is for the present. Place her on her back so the rain may beat in her face. She will be all right in a few moments."

Miss Elting did not know that Harriet had fallen, and that it was not only the smoke but the shock of the fall as well that had overcome her.

"But, thuppothe the barn fallth down!" exclaimed Tommy.

"Yes, you are right. We must get her farther away." Together they carried Harriet out to the place where the old woman lay. When they reached there the old woman was sitting up looking about her in a dazed manner. Shouts and cries off toward the highway told the little company that men were hastening to the scene of the fire.

Harriet became conscious in a short time, but she had frequent coughing spells for some minutes.

"That ith right. Cough up all the thmoke," suggested Tommy wisely. "You'll feel better after you get the thmoke out of your thythtem. I know, for I thwallowed a lot of thmoke once."

The men ran past the party of women, shouting and gesticulating. There were a dozen of them. Others could be heard approaching the scene of the fire. Harriet, as soon as she was able to talk, and the coughing spells became less frequent, went over to the woman she had rescued. The swarthy complexion, straight black hair, and piercing black eyes of the woman were the same characteristics that Harriet had observed in the man who had fallen from the ladder.

"Do you feel better?" questioned Harriet, smiling a little.

The old woman nodded, her eyes never leaving the face of her questioner for an instant.

"You have this young woman to thank for being alive," Miss Elting informed the old woman, stepping up to her and nodding toward Harriet.

"You saved me, eh?" questioned the stranger, looking searchingly at the girl.

Harriet did not reply, but Miss Elting answered for her.

"You saved Sybarina from fire from the skies?" insisted the woman.

"She means the lightning," suggested Hazel.

"Yes, she did," repeated Miss Elting. "She climbed the ladder to the hay loft and let you down with blankets tied together. Our blankets are there yet."

"Oh, I forgot them," cried Harriet. "How thoughtless of me! Now we shall have nothing to sleep in."

"Never mind the blankets. We have others in the car."

"You saved Sybarina?" repeated the old woman, staggering to her feet. She had been temporarily paralyzed from the electric bolt, and was as yet barely able to stand on her feet.

"Please don't mention it," urged Harriet, flushing.

The old woman seized Harriet's hand and gazed deeply into it by the light of the burning barn. As she gazed she swayed her body from side to side with quick, nervous movements.

"Ah! Sybarina sees that which pleases her," crooned the old woman. "She sees a noble girl whom the fires from the skies cannot frighten. And she sees more. She sees wealth and happiness and a great future for her who fears not the fire from above. Sybarina gives you her blessing."

A heavy hand was laid on the old woman's shoulder.

"Here, you Gipsy woman. Were you sleeping in that barn?" demanded a gruff voice.

"I met two Gipsy men running across the fields to the west as I came down," answered another male voice. "The Gipsies are camped about a mile and a half from here. I think we ought to arrest the old woman, don't you, Squire?"

"Sybarina was asleep in the barn," admitted the Gipsy woman.

"And you set the barn on fire, too," declared the squire. "I'll have to arrest you."

"She didn't set the barn on fire, sir," defended Harriet Burrell.

"The fires from the skies made the barn burn," announced the Gipsy woman.

"Who are you?" demanded the man, turning sharply to Harriet. "I suppose you will tell me _you_ weren't sleeping in my barn?"

"On the contrary, we were," interjected Miss Elting.

"Then I arrest the whole parcel of you."

"Thave me!" wailed Tommy Thompson. "We didn't thet your old barn on fire. We were jutht thleeping there, that wath all."

"You will all stay here till I get through with this fire; then I'll hold court on you and if you don't answer to suit me I'll have you all over to the county seat to-morrow."

"No one set your barn on fire, sir," declared Harriet, with emphasis. "The barn was struck by lightning."

"Did you see it?"

"I can't say that I saw the lightning strike, but I saw the flash, then saw the fire start up directly afterwards. I heard this woman scream and we hurried to her rescue. She was unconscious. The bolt had nearly killed her. That proves that it was lightning, not matches, that set your barn on fire."

"What were you doing in my barn?"

"Thleeping with the mithe and the bugth," volunteered Tommy.

"Who be you? You ain't Gipsies?"

"No. We are from Meadow-Brook, and we are walking home from the Pocono Woods, where we have been spending the summer in camp," Miss Elting informed the man.

"So, that's it, hey?"

"Yes, sir. A young woman friend of ours usually meets us at night. She has our equipment in her automobile, but we took the wrong trail to-day, and have lost her. She is over in the other valley waiting for us, I think."

"Is she a crazy woman with light hair that streams over her shoulders, and does she drive her car as though she was running a race?"

"From your description I think you must have met Miss McCarthy," answered the guardian, smiling a little. "Have you seen her to-day?"

"I should say I had. She nigh killed a calf of mine this afternoon. I'd just like to get my grip on her once. I'd make her answer to the law."

"Was your calf in the road, sir?" questioned Harriet.

"Yes. What of it?"

"I don't believe the law would do anything to Miss McCarthy in that case. Of course I am sorry for the calf," said Harriet.

"Oh, the calf ain't hurt. Jest lost a little hair off her tail, shaved off as close as ye could do it with a razor. But that don't matter. It's the barn and nigh onto a hundred tons of hay gone up in smoke that bothers me. I wisht I was sure you was telling the truth. If I thought you weren't I'd have you all in the lock-up afore morning."

"Are--are there any mithe in the lock-up?" questioned Tommy apprehensively.

"Eh? Stacks all gone, too?" This in answer to a word from a farmer who came from the rear of the burning barn. "Well, let 'em go. There'll be another crop of hay next year. Mebby the price'll be better then."

The loss of his barn did not appear to trouble the "Squire" greatly. All the time he was talking he was regarding the women out of the corners of his eyes. He saw that they were drenched through and through. Tommy and Margery were shivering. He decided that they were persons of some consequence, even if they had been sleeping in his barn. His reflections were interrupted by Miss Elting.

"Can you tell me which way the young woman and the car went?"

"Can I? I guess I can. She went east. The calf could tell ye, too, if she could talk, but she wouldn't say it quite so easy like as I'm tellin' you now."

"Jane was looking for us," nodded Miss Elting. "She must have reasoned that we had gotten into this valley by mistake."

"Where you going to stay the rest of the night?" questioned the squire gruffly.

"I am afraid we shall have to stay out in the rain if we don't succeed in finding another barn," laughed the guardian. "My girls are pretty well used to roughing it, though they never before passed quite such a night as this has been. Do you know of a farm house nearby where we may get lodgings? We are perfectly willing to sleep on the floor in the kitchen, provided we can have the room to dry out our clothes, and we shall be glad and willing to pay for the trouble."

"You may come home with me," answered the man, after a brief hesitation.

"What is your name, sir?" questioned Miss Elting.

"Squire Olney, Miss. You see I ain't a squire by appointment. The neighbors jest call me that because I settle their difficulties. I've got more land in this township than all the rest of them put together. That's why I ain't takin' the burnin' of the barn to heart so much as you think I ought to," he added, with a broad smile.

"Have you a family at home?" questioned Miss Elting.

"My wife and I are alone. Children all married."

"How far is it from here to your home, sir?"

"About a mile right over the hill. What do you say?"

"We will go with you. We thank you for your kindness. I am very sorry, indeed, that you have lost your barn and your hay," said the guardian in a sympathetic tone.

The squire leaned toward her.

"I ain't lost anything," he said, with a wink. "Insured. Insured plumb up to the muzzle, and then some more. Boys, I'm going home to show the ladies the way. You can have all the hay that's left. I want the ashes for fertilizer. Ashes is good for the cut worms in the cabbage patch. Come on, ladies."

Squire Olney nodded to them and started away. He halted sharply.

"Where's that old Gipsy woman? She ain't included in the invitation."

"Why, she has gone," exclaimed Hazel. "I didn't see her go. Did you, Harriet?"

Harriet Burrell shook her head. She was puzzled at the mysterious disappearance of Sybarina, who had given her rescuer her blessing, then so strangely slipped away.

The walk over the hill did not add to the comfort of the Meadow-Brook Girls. They splashed through deep puddles of water in the little hollows, slipped and stumbled over bare clay spots, fell over stones and roots until they were not only soaked to the skin, but badly bruised as well. Margery wailed and groaned all the way. Tommy made fun of her until they came in sight of the lights in the farm house.

"That's the old shack that has covered us for nigh onto fifty years," he said, nodding toward the light in the window.

The light and the comfortable looking old farm house made the Meadow-Brook Girls almost forget their sodden condition. Mrs. Olney was standing on the front porch, gazing down across the field. She recognized the squire's voice, but she was at a loss to understand who his companions were.

"Hello, Martha," he sang out, as he crossed the road with his party.

"That you, Squire?"

"Yep. Me and the girls. Barn all burned down, but I've brought the leavings. Me and the girls is all right, Martha. But they're wetter than Old Sixty. Poke up the kitchen fire and let them dry their clothing."

Miss Elting stepped forward and shook hands with Mrs. Olney, briefly explaining how they came to be there at that time of the night.

"Female tramps. Got fired from sleepin' in the squire's hay barn," chuckled the old man.

Mrs. Olney led the way into the house, where she turned and surveyed her callers critically.

"Why, you poor things!" she cried, when she had gotten a good look at the Meadow-Brook Girls. "And you sleepin' in the barn. It's a shame," she exclaimed, bustling about. "Squire, you tend to that fire yerself. I'll git out some dry clothing for these girls. Then I'll see about making some coffee and getting them something to eat. Come into my bedroom, my dears and change your wet clothes."

"I am afraid that we are putting you to a great deal of trouble," demurred Miss Elting.

"Not a bit of it," rejoined Mrs. Olney. "Come right along with me."

Half an hour later, Miss Elting and the Meadow-Brook Girls clothed in dressing gowns and wrappers belonging to the hospitable Mrs. Olney sat in the big farm house kitchen doing full justice to the luncheon provided by the farmer's wife. After their exciting experiences of the night the girls were tired enough to gladly welcome the opportunity of sleeping in a real bed, and in spite of their late repast the five wayworn travelers slept peacefully, unvisited by nightmares.