"Well, well, young man, what's this?" demanded Mr. Armatage, for a
moment quite as stern with Russ as he was with his own children.

Daddy, too, looked upon Russ with amazement. "Why, Russ," he said, "what
does this mean? What are you doing down here?"

"There's a fire!" gasped out Russ, his breath almost gone. "There's a
fire!"

"Upstairs?" demanded Mr. Armatage, whirling toward the stairway.

"Oh, no, sir! No, sir!" cried Russ, stopping him. "It's down the hill. I
saw it from the window."

"The quarters?" demanded the planter.

"No, sir. It looks like Mammy June's. It's a great red flame shooting
right up about where her cabin is."

"And the old woman has gone home. She's lame. Like enough she won't get
out in time--if it is her shack. Come on, boys!" The planter's shout
rang through the lower rooms and startled both the guests and the
servants. "There's a fire down by the branch. May be a cabin and
somebody in it. Come on in your cars and follow me. Get all the buckets
you can find."

He dashed out of the house, hatless as he was, shouting to the colored
folks who were gathered outside watching the dancing through the long
windows. Daddy Bunker followed right behind him. And what do you suppose
Russ did? Why, he could have touched Daddy Bunker's coat-tails he kept