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Little Florida Lady, A

<h3> CHAPTER XIV </h3> <h3> The Rescue </h3> With the elasticity of childhood, Beth grew well rapidly, and was once more her mischievous self. One evening about the middle of May, Mr. and Mrs. Davenport and Marian went up the river a short distance to a party, and invited the Gordons to drive with them. Julia came over to spend the night with Beth, and Mrs. Davenport arranged for Maggie to stay in the house, that the girls might not be alone. Duke, also, was kept within doors for protection. The girls passed a pleasant evening, and retired rather late. Duke followed them up to their room, and went to sleep just outside the door, which they left open on his account. Maggie slept in a room at the end of the hall. Gustus that night had sneaked out to see some of his friends. He had stayed so late that he feared to return through the dark. Still he dreaded even more the scolding that he would get if he were missed in the morning. So he started home, whistling as he went, to keep up his spirits. Suddenly his attention was attracted by a reddened sky in the direction of the Davenport home. "Foh de Lawd's sake," he muttered, "dat do look like our home wuz burnin' for sure. Jes' s'pose it wuz. Little missy am thar an' might burn. I'd jes' bettah take to my heels, an' run as fas' as ever I kin, an' see." He ran a few steps, and then stopped. Besides the red in the sky, he thought he saw sparks flying. His heart rose in his mouth. "Jes' s'pose dat dar fire am de work ob de debbil. He might be waitin' dar spoutin' out fire to kotch me. Dat's it. I won't go near dar all by myself. I'll jes' go back." He turned, and ran a few steps the other way, and then halted again. "Jes' s'pose dat ain't de debbil, but a real shure nuff fire. Den missy'll burn, an' I'll be to blame. I jes' ought to go an' see, but what if it am de debbil? Den he'll hab me sure nuff, an' dat'd be worser dan burnin'." The Davenports' home was really on fire. It was never discovered how the fire started. The only plausible explanation was a defective flue in the kitchen stove, but it could never be proved. The house was built of fat pine, and the fire spread with alarming rapidity. First the kitchen burst into a mass of flames that leaped along the roof of the piazza to the main part of the building. There had been no rain for some time, and the dry wood proved as combustible as if oil had been applied. The sparks flew over all the house until it was one blaze of fire. The servants were sleeping in their quarters, and did not discover the terrible danger of the inmates of the house. Maggie and the children slept on, and it seemed as if there would be no awakening until it was too late, unless Gustus ran to the rescue. The flames crackled as if trying to rouse the poor, innocent sleepers, but still they slept. The fire rushed on and on as if anxious to wipe out the precious human lives before help arrived. Even Duke slept, and the silly superstition of Gustus might prove the death of those he loved. "White folks ain't scared ob de debbil like us black people. Dey nebber see tings de way we do. Maybe de debbil only 'pears to us kose we's black like he am. If dar wuz only a white person wid me, dey wouldn't be scared to go an' see if it were a fire or de debbil. I ought to find out which it am. De fire might burn Missy Beth, and de debbil might carry her off if he don't kotch me. De debbil nebber goes 'way empty-handed." Gustus tarried, harrowed by his superstition, but with love trying to master fear. Unless love conquered quickly, he would be too late to save her whom he worshiped. "Missy Beth's been powerful good to me," he moralized to himself. "She wouldn't let me burn, nor she wouldn't let de debbil carry me off. She always tells me dar's nuffin to fear only my own b'liefs, but if she was black like me she'd know bettah. She's white like an angel, an' angels only see glory. Yes, she's an angel, an' God will save her. He won't let de debbil hab her nor de fire scorch her." Trying to ease his conscience thus, he once more turned away from the fire as if the struggle were ended, but real love is never conquered. It still tugged at the heart strings of Gustus. "God's far, far away. It's night, an' maybe He sometimes snoozes like de rest ob us. Den Missy Beth's in danger, an' unless I help her. God won't know anything 'bout it. I have it. I'll go an' wake Massa Harvey. He'll know what to do." Gustus ran towards the Baker homestead which was the next place to the Davenports'. Love had gained a half victory, but half victories are always dangerous. He might rouse Harvey, but unless God intervened in some way, Harvey would be too late, and his friend would burn. On ran Gustus, while the fire raged more and more fiercely. Its fiery tongues leaped out nearer and nearer the children, Maggie, and Duke, sure to devour them unless God vouchsafed some other warning besides the one that had been given Gustus. He had been tried and found wanting. "Massa Harvey, Massa Harvey," Gustus cried a few minutes later, under the window of the room where he knew Harvey slept. "For God's sake, come an' save Missy Beth." Harvey wakened out of a sound sleep. He thought he was dreaming, but again he heard the agonized appeal: "Massa Harvey, for God's sake, save Missy Beth." Harvey sprang to the window. "What's the matter, Gustus?" "I think de debbil am after Missy Beth," moaned Gustus, who had decided that it was the Evil One instead of a real fire. His words gave Harvey no lucid idea of the situation. He feared Beth was in danger, but he little realized the urgency of the case. However, he did not stop to question, but slipped into his clothes as fast as he could, and went below to join Gustus. His parents had gone to the party, and he did not waken any of the servants. The minute he opened the front door, one look to the right revealed the awful truth to him. "Is Beth there?" he gasped to Gustus who had run around to the door to join him. "I reckon so. Yo' won't let de debbil get her." "The devil? It's worse. It's fire. She'll burn," cried Harvey in agony, tearing across the fields as fast as he could. Gustus followed trembling in every limb. He realized now that he had been a coward, that if his beloved little "missy" burned, he would be greatly to blame. "I didn't know," he moaned to himself, and then his cry changed to a prayer, "Dear God, don't let her burn. Don't let her burn," he pleaded as he ran, pitifully penitent. As Harvey flew towards the burning house, his thought dwelt on the other fire from which he and Beth had been saved. "God won't let her burn. He won't do it," he cried to himself, and yet half fearful that the fire demon which seemed to pursue Beth might conquer this time. "De Good Book says dat if we ask anything, an' believe, dat it will be granted us," gasped Gustus as if reading Harvey's doubts. "Let's both pray as hard as ever we kin dat God'll save Missy Beth, an' He'll do it." The faith expressed by the superstitious colored boy heartened Harvey somewhat. He ran on as fast as ever, but both in his heart and in that of Gustus was the prayer that Beth might be saved. That prayer was answered. After the colored boy was found wanting, an animal was used as God's messenger. The fire awakened Duke. The air all around him was full of smoke that almost choked him. He realized there was danger, but he thought more of another that he loved than of his own safety. With a bound, he sprang through the open doorway barking wildly. He leaped up on the bed where the children slept. He had no words in which to warn them of danger, but the ways of God are above those of men, and weak instruments prove strong in His hands. Julia and Beth wakened at the same instant. "What is it, Duke?" cried Beth only half awake, for the dog was pulling wildly at her night-dress. The smoke answered her question. Both of the girls knew that Duke was warning them that the house was on fire. They jumped out of bed, and ran to the door. The fire now was fast breaking into the house. "What shall we do?" gasped Beth at sight of the smoke and flames circling around the stairs at the end of the hall. "We can climb down the piazza," answered Julia turning towards it. Beth started to follow her, but a thought stopped her. "If we go that way Maggie'll burn. I must try to warn her." "But we'll choke to death," cried Julia, carried away for a moment by the terror fire has for the bravest. "I can't help it. I can't let Maggie burn. You can climb down the piazza, but I'm going to try to reach Maggie," answered Beth, going towards the hall, with Duke at her heels. It was a terrible temptation to Julia to take Beth at her words. She feared that Death waited in the hall. The thought made Julia shiver notwithstanding the sickening heat that was beginning to fill the house. Her face blanched, but it was no whiter than that of Beth, who felt fully as strongly as Julia the danger she ran in trying to save Maggie. "Let's wrap ourselves in blankets," cried Julia seizing two from the bed, and throwing one to Beth. She had conquered her fear sufficiently to make a supreme effort to save Maggie. She was too brave to let Beth outshine her in daring. "Maggie, Maggie, wake," yelled Beth, wrapping the blanket around her and rushing out into the smoke and fire towards the room where Maggie slept. "Fire, fire, fire," screamed Julia, the smoke half choking her. Their cries wakened Maggie. She jumped out of bed, and rushed out into the hall. "Oh, de good Lo'd," she moaned, trembling all over in sudden horror; "dis house is burnin', an' we'll die." Then she saw the two girls. Their danger calmed her fears. "No, we won't die, honeys," she cried more calmly. "We kin get down de stairs, I know. Come on, my honeys. I won't leave yo'. We'll jes' keep our mouths shut, an' we'll be all right." She, too, seized a blanket to protect herself from the fire. She was nearest the stairs, but she waited until the girls came up to her. Not another word was said. The smoke was drying up their throats and lungs, and they felt that they needed every bit of air just to breathe. Fortunately, in the main part of the building, the fire was worse on the outside than the inside. Their greatest foe was the smoke that grew more dense every instant. Down the stairs they flew. Once at the bottom, the door leading outside seemed very far away. Still they did not make a sound, but used every effort to escape. There was no thought of trying to save anything but their lives. That was the one mercy that was asked of God. Other possessions could be replaced. On, on they flew. Thank God, the door is almost within reach. They gasp for breath. Even Duke pants. Will their strength last until they can reach God's pure air? Maggie now proved leader. Her trembling hands unbarred the door that alone stood between them and liberty. With a last mighty effort, she swung it open. Out they flew, and now the flames which curled in wild fury about the piazza almost scorched them. Thank God, this fiery trial is but for a moment. They dash through the flames, and are safe. Breathing is no longer a pain. They make their way beyond the reach of the sparks. Maggie fell on her knees crying: "Praise to de Lo'd. Praise to de Lo'd." Julia looked at the piazza down which she had wished to climb. "Beth, if we had tried to come that way we couldn't have done it," she said, and there was thankfulness in her heart that she had conquered her fear. Otherwise precious time would have been lost, and she might have been burned to death. "Our home is gone," sobbed Beth, for at that instant the roof fell. Duke howled as if he, too, knew that something had been lost that never again could be exactly the same. His howls attracted Beth's attention. "You dear, dear fellow," she cried, the tears flowing faster than ever. "If it hadn't been for you we'd all be dead." He poked his nose into her outstretched hand, and looked up at her as if he would like to comfort her. At that instant Harvey and Gustus rushed upon the scene. "Beth, Beth," cried Harvey wildly. "We're here," she answered. Tears of thankfulness rushed into the eyes of Harvey and Gustus, and for once they were not ashamed of crying. "Beth," repeated Harvey, running up to her and seizing her hands. His emotion choked back the words that rose. Never had he been more grateful, and never had he less power of expression. "Little missy, I done feared yo'd went up in de flames," cried Gustus, and added, "but I had dat dar grain of mustard seed dat made me b'lieve de Lo'd would somehow save yo'." "Somehow, even when I'm awfully scared, I don't think I'm going to be killed," said Beth. "I jes' reckon yo' has dat grain of mustard seed I'se tellin' 'bout." "I reckon it's a good thing to have, Gustus," put in Harvey. "But instead of letting the mustard seed do everything by itself, I believe we'd better rouse the servants. Unless care is taken their quarters and the barn may burn." <center> <ANTIMG SRC="images/img-256.jpg" ALT="The darkies' quarters." BORDER="2" WIDTH="494" HEIGHT="420"> <h4> [Illustration: The darkies' quarters.] </h4> </center> This proved a happy suggestion; for while these buildings were far distant from the house, it was found the sparks had already set the barn afire. However, the servants managed to put the fire out. The glare from the fire illuminated the sky, and attracted the attention of the Davenports and the Gordons returning in a merry mood from the party. "It looks like a house burning," said Mrs. Davenport. "Supposing it were ours," she added forebodingly. Mr. Davenport had experienced a like fear for some moments, but had refrained from letting any of the party know. They had remarked that he was driving the spirited span to their full speed, but supposed he was hurrying because of the lateness of the hour. "It is a fire," cried Mrs. Gordon. "Our daughters—God keep them." Moments seemed hours to the anxious parents. As dread became certainty, they felt as if the horses were almost standing still, whereas they were going as fast over the hard shell road as was possible. Ambulance or fire horses could not have passed the ones Mr. Davenport drove, urged both by his voice and by the whip. "Beth—Julia," cried two mothers the same second, as they rushed from the carriage and gathered two blanketed figures to their hearts. Tears of relief and thankfulness flowed thick and fast. "It's terrible that our lovely home is gone," cried Beth. "In evil there is good. You are safe, my darling," her mother murmured. The fathers felt no less keenly the escape of their beloved children, but expressed themselves less emotionally. Marian could get hardly any one to notice her, but finally managed to say so as to be heard: "I don't think they ought to be standing around with bare feet, and blankets wrapped around them." "You must all come home with us," cried Mrs. Gordon. "I will not accept a refusal. We have a great abundance of room." Already the fire was beginning to die down, and Mr. Davenport saw that no good could be accomplished by remaining longer. "January, I want you to watch to see that no damage is done by sparks," he said. "Sparks won't have no sort of chance wid me aroun', massa." Room was made in the carriage for the two children, and the horses were started in the direction of the Gordon homestead. For a few moments, in the excitement of telling about the fire, Beth forgot all about Duke. They were almost at the Gordons' door when she thought of him. She looked hastily back, half hoping he might be following, and to her joy saw him directly behind the carriage. Beth pleaded to be allowed to take her beloved dog up to Julia's room with them. Julia added her entreaties, and the children were permitted to do as they wished in the matter. Once the children were in bed, they talked awhile of their fortunate deliverance. Duke came in for a big share of praise. Then Julia fell asleep, but Beth felt very wide awake. Presently, even Duke on the floor near their bed also slept. Beth knew that he was sleeping because he moaned as if he were haunted by a nightmare of the fire. "Poor, poor fellow, he feels almost as bad as I," thought Beth. For a long time she lay awake wondering what her father would do now that their home with all its contents was burned. "Just s'posing—just s'posing——" With these words Beth fell into a troubled sleep. About ten minutes afterwards, she began crying in her sleep, which wakened Julia. "Why, Beth dear, what's the matter?" and Julia twined her arm lovingly around her friend. Beth wakened with a start. She sat up in bed. "Where am I, Julia? In Florida?" "Of course, dear. What made you——" "Oh, I'm so glad I'm here. I went to sleep s'posing——" "Supposing what, Beth?" "Oh, I don't like to tell for fear it may come true. I dreamed that it did come true and it made me very miserable." "You're just nervous over the terrible fire. All the bad that can happen has already happened to you." "I don't know about that," murmured Beth, but could not be persuaded to tell Julia more about her dream. Julia therefore sank back into slumberland, and forgot all about her friend's dream, but not so Beth. The fear of what she dreamed haunted her, waking and sleeping. The next morning, Beth had quite a time dressing. Most of Julia's clothes proved a very tight fit. "I'll have to pretend I'm a young lady. Then I shall not mind if it is tight," Beth said as she struggled into Julia's blue dress. "It's a little short, but then short dresses are the style now," commented Julia in an effort to be polite. Immediately after breakfast, the Davenports and the Gordons started over to view the fire. For some reason known only to herself, Beth did not care to go. She even refused to be moved by Julia's entreaties, and insisted that Julia go without her. Duke remained to keep Beth company. When the two were alone, Beth put her arms around the faithful dog. He looked up into her eyes and whined. "I believe you know," cried Beth. "Are you afraid of it, too?" Again Duke whined. "You do know, Duke." There were tears in Beth's eyes. "If it happens, they'll take you from me. Don't you remember what Mr. Brown said?" Duke looked as if he understood. "They shan't take you from me. I'll go in town and see Mr. Brown. You shall go with me, Duke." He wagged his tail as if pleased, at the promise. Beth ran for a hat, and then, with Duke, started down the road towards town. The day was extremely sultry, and the warmth in combination with the excitement of the night before soon caused Beth to tire, but she would not give up her undertaking. "You'd do as much to stay with me, wouldn't you, Duke?" she asked, to encourage herself. Duke barked. Perhaps it was because he did not mind the heat and was anxious for a frolic. Beth envied his spirits. To her the way seemed very long and dusty, but on and on she trudged. She did not know exactly where Mr. Brown lived, but thought by asking she could easily find out, and so it proved. It was a very tired, warm, and dusty little girl who finally turned in at the Browns'. A great, overgrown puppy rushed at Beth and Duke as they opened the gate. At first, Beth could hardly believe her own eyes. It scarcely seemed possible that it was the same puppy she had given Mr. Brown such a short time before. The little fellow had outgrown all his brothers and sisters, and could no longer be rightly termed little. Duke was unaffectedly glad to see his son. Away they ran together. "Duke, Duke, come back." Beth's call did not bring him, but Mr. Brown came around the corner of the house. "Why, missy," his face lighted up in greeting. Beth wondered how she ever thought him ugly-looking. "You saw my puppy, didn't you? I tell you he's a fine fellow. Duke never compared with him." "Do you really like the puppy the best?" cried Beth, eagerly rushing up to him in her excitement. "Not a doubt of it." He smiled at her evident delight. "Gift——" "Is that what you call him?" "Yes. The name is to remind me of your kindness. I——" "Was I really kind?" she interrupted wistfully. She did not wait for an answer. "Then perhaps you'd be willing to do me a very, very great favor." "What is it you want? But you'd better sit down first. You look tired." "I am a little tired. It was pretty hot walking." "You don't mean you walked here?—and on such a hot day?" When he found that she had, he seated her in the shade on the cool piazza, and would not listen to another word until he went into the house and returned with a bottle of orangeade for her. "Now while you drink, I'll tell you why I like Gift better than Duke. In the first place, Gift really loves me—why, I don't believe that even such a charming little lady as you could get Gift to leave me. Let's try and see. Here, Gift; come, Gift." The two dogs came running at his call. "He always answers just so promptly." Beth noted how proud he looked. "Now little missy, call Gift and make friends with him." Beth did as bidden. Gift proved very friendly in response. Duke seemed inclined to be jealous. "Now missy, rise as if to go and call Gift to follow. It will be as big a temptation as he ever had. He doesn't usually make friends the way he has with you and Duke. Perhaps I'm a fool to try him so." "Then I will not——" "No, no. I want to know if Gift cares for me as much as I think he does. You must try him." Beth was growing nervous over the situation. Somehow, she realized that the love of Gift meant more to the man before her than almost anything in his life. If the dog failed him at this point it might have a very disastrous effect. "Come, come; do as I say," cried Brown with somewhat of his original curtness of manner. Beth did not dare refuse, but trembled for the result. She arose. Duke wagged his tail in delight that she was going. "Come on, Gift." He paid no heed, but his master saw that she was not calling as if she really wanted the dog. "Call as if you meant it." She saw that she could not fool him. She felt compelled to act under his direction, but it seemed the irony of fate that once she had unwittingly taken his dog from him, and that now she should be made to try again when neither of them wished the dog to leave him. Tears were in her eyes, but she clapped her hands as if ready for a frolic. "Come on, Gift; come on." Duke also barked an invitation. Gift leaped down the steps and was by their side in an instant. "Oh, please call him back, or let me come back." "Go on. Don't you dare let him see that you don't want him. If he follows you home, I never want to see any of you again. Both dogs then are yours forever," growled Gift's owner. Tears now blinded poor Beth so that she could hardly see to open the gate. Duke did not wait for it to be opened, but leaped over the fence. Gift hesitated about following. He was perfectly able to make the jump, but he evidently thought of his master for the first time. He looked back undecided what to do. "Oh, if he only would call him," but Brown stood as if turned to stone. Suddenly Gift ran back to his side. Beth never felt more grateful. "Call him. I am not sure of him yet," cried Brown in a strange voice. "It's cruel to the dog and to me," thought Beth. She now held the gate open. "Come, Gift." Again Duke barked. "I'm ashamed of you, Duke Davenport, for tempting your own son," thought Beth. Gift looked up at his master as if for a word of instruction. He received no word or sign in reply. Then Gift made a slight move as if to follow Beth, but suddenly turned and licked his master's hand. Next, he settled down on the porch for a sleep as if the matter were settled once and forever. Beth now expected to see Mr. Brown show some emotion, but he simply called, "Missy, come back." She would have thought that she had overestimated his feelings in the matter if she had not caught sight of tears in his eyes when she returned. "Gift is the best friend I have," he said quietly when Beth was reseated. "Do you know he helps keep me from saloons. If he is with me and I start in one, he growls. Now, what favor do you want to ask of me?" She had almost forgotten the object of her visit, and the abruptness with which it was recalled to her embarrassed her. "I—I want to pay you for Duke. I have some money of my own in the bank and I think——" "But I gave Duke to you." He looked grieved. "I accepted Gift from you, I don't see——" "You don't understand. Do you remember what you said when you gave me Duke? You said if I ever left Florida I'd have to give him back to you." "That was before I had Gift." "And you wouldn't take Duke from me?" She sprang to her feet. "Not for the world." Suddenly Beth seized Duke, and danced around and around with him. "Oh, goody. Duke, you old dear, we needn't stay awake nights worrying over that part any more." Mr. Brown hitched up and drove Beth back. On the way, she told him of the fire, and how Duke had saved their lives. Duke and Gift were following the carriage, and perhaps Duke was telling his son of his own heroism, because Gift often barked as if excited over something. Mr. Brown said he would like to see the ruins and so Beth drove with him to the homestead. They found Mr. Davenport, Julia, Harvey, Maggie, and Gustus out near the stables. "Why Beth, where have you been?" cried her father. She jumped out of the carriage and ran and threw herself into her father's arms. "Papa, now that our house is gone, I was afraid you'd take us back North to live. I don't want to go, but if I had to go, it would have broken my heart to part with Duke, but now, I'll never, never have to part with him, no matter what happens. Mr. Brown says he's mine forever." "Dear, I do not expect to go back North. Next fall, we'll build a fine new house, and you shall be a little Florida lady the rest of your life, if you wish." "I'm to live South always," cried Beth, turning a radiant face toward her friends. "Three cheers for our little Florida lady," proposed Harvey. All present joined in the hurrahing that followed. Gustus's voice rang out the loudest of any. Beth's face was radiant. The sun was shining once more for her. Her two great fears had proved groundless. Duke was hers, and henceforth she was to remain A Little Florida Lady. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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