Helen had followed him, and they watched together a strange light, rising
and falling, and then brightening again all along the sky. Even as they
looked the upper heavens began to pulsate and throb with faint crimson.

"It is fire!" John exclaimed. "Let me get my coat. I must go."

"Oh, not now," Helen said. "You must finish your supper; and you are so
tired, John!"

But he was already at the door and reaching for his hat.

"It must be the lumber-yards, and the river is frozen!"

"Wait!" Helen cried. "Let me get my cloak. I will go if you do," and a
moment later the parsonage door banged behind them, and they hurried out
into the darkness.

The street which led to the lumber-yards had been silent and deserted
when John passed through it half an hour before, but now all Lockhaven
seemed to throng it.

The preacher and his wife could hear the snapping and crackling of flames
even before they turned the last corner and saw the blaze, which,
sweeping up into the cold air, began to mutter before it broke with a
savage roar. They caught sight of Gifford's broad shoulders in the crowd,
which stood, fascinated and appalled, watching the destruction of what to
most of them meant work and wages.

"Oh, Giff!" Helen said when they reached his side, "why don't they do