Before him fled Jacqueline with all the speed of the
black. He loosened the reins, spoke to the mare, and she responded
with a mighty rush. Even that tearing pace could not quite take him up
to the girl, but he flung himself from the saddle and was at her side
when she ran across the smoking veranda and wrenched at the
front door.
The whole frame gave back at her, and as Pierre snatched her to one
side the doorway fell crashing on the porch, while a mighty volume of
smoke burst out at them like a puff from the pit.
They stood sputtering, coughing, and choking, and when they could look
again they saw a solid wall of red flame, thick, impenetrable,
shuddering with the breath of the wind.
While they stared a stronger breath of that wind tore the wall of
flames apart, driving it back in a raging tide to either side. The
fire had circled the walls of the entire room, but it had scarcely
encroached on the center, and there, seated at the table, was Boone.
He had scarcely changed from the position in which they last saw him,
save that he was fallen somewhat deeper in the chair, his head resting
against the top of the back.
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