Mrs. Davenport hurried away to get the gruel.

Left to herself, Beth continued to cry.

"I don't believe G.o.d cares for me, or He'd have sent me a rabbit. I asked Him last night when I prayed. Miss Smith"--her Sunday-school.

teacher--"says G.o.d always answers prayer if it is good for one, and I'm sure rabbit is good for me."

The tears came a little faster.

"She says, though, one must ask awfully hard. Perhaps I don't ask hard enough. I'll ask again."

Beth folded her hands and closed her eyes.

"Dear G.o.d, I can't eat gruel any more. I'll die if I have to eat gruel, and I don't want to die. I want rabbit."

It would seem that the days of miracles had not pa.s.sed; for even while she prayed, she felt two paws rest on her cot. She opened her eyes and there was Duke waiting impatiently for her to notice him. She could hardly believe her eyes, for in his mouth he held a little live rabbit as if for her to take it. To make sure she was not dreaming, she stretched forth her hand for the rabbit. Duke let her take it without offering the least resistance. In fact, he looked at her as much as to say:

"I heard them say that my little mistress wanted a rabbit. I was bound she should have a rabbit, and here it is."

Mrs. Davenport entered the room. "Here is your broth, dear."

"Take it away," cried Beth exultingly. "I'm going to have a rabbit.

G.o.d sent Duke to bring me one. Wasn't he good not to eat it himself--he always used to eat them when he caught them, and G.o.d was so good to me, too."

The speech appeared a little ambiguous to Mrs. Davenport, but it was all very plain to the child.

Never did a stew seem more delicious to any one than did that rabbit stew to Beth. In fact, it proved a turning point with her, the fever subsiding thereafter very rapidly.

CHAPTER XIV

The Rescue

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 pa.s.sed 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 ma.s.s 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 superst.i.tion 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 superst.i.tion, 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' G.o.d 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.

"G.o.d'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. G.o.d won't know anything 'bout it. I have it. I'll go an' wake Ma.s.sa 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d vouchsafed some other warning besides the one that had been given Gustus. He had been tried and found wanting.

"Ma.s.sa Harvey, Ma.s.sa Harvey," Gustus cried a few minutes later, under the window of the room where he knew Harvey slept. "For G.o.d'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:

"Ma.s.sa Harvey, for G.o.d'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.