CHAPTER XV.
FIRE AT THE MILLS.
Ray acted instinctively, and so did the most natural thing under the circumstances. Screaming "fire" two or three times at the top of his voice, he ran swiftly down the hill toward the mills. Nor did he keep upon the street up which he had just come; but, jumping over the nearest fence, he took the most direct line for the burning building. In three minutes he had reached the east fence of the mill yard, and ran along it, looking for some place to climb over. He had a vague notion that if he could only reach those flames before they got under too great headway, he might subdue them.
The fire had not yet gained sufficient force to afford him any light, and he ran along in the darkness until he suddenly struck against a ladder reaching to the top of the fence, with force enough to send it to the ground with a loud clatter, while he fell headlong over it. Before he could rise to his feet, he heard a voice that he knew only too well, saying, apparently from the top of the fence near him:
"The wind has blown down our ladder, boys. I just heard it fall. We shall have to jump. Hurry up."
Then the speaker leaped to the ground and hurried away. A moment later a second man followed, then a third, and a fourth. The last, however, had evidently jumped from a position a little farther along the fence than his companions, and, stumbling over the crouching lad as he leaped, both rolled on the ground.
"Hang it all, Smith; I thought you had gone on. Did I hurt you?" remarked this person, rising to his feet.
No one could mistake that gigantic form, even in the darkness. It was Hyde, the leader of the strike. For answer Ray rose and sprang fearlessly upon the man, trying to throw him, and to hold him down. With an exclamation of astonishment, the giant threw one arm around the plucky boy, holding him as in a vise. Then he passed a hand over the lad's smooth face. A cry of dismay now leaped from his lips, and with a savage oath he flung his victim, with no gentle force, back against the fence, and immediately disappeared.
Ray lay where he had fallen for a brief moment, confused, and sick at heart. He had recognized all four men. The first had been his own father, the second Blake, the third Smith, the last Hyde; and they, beyond any possible doubt, had set fire to the mills.
But he could now hear the crackling of the flames, and already the light was beginning to throw its rays over upon him. If this fire was checked, he must act at once. He crawled to his feet, and, as fast as he was able, hurried off toward the main street.
Had the mills been running, there would have been ample power, and a full supply of hose right at hand for checking the flames, the corporation having always depended upon itself in such emergencies. Whatever help was secured now, however, must come from the Afton fire department. Ray knew this; and his purpose was to reach the nearest fire box, and sound the alarm.
He had some distance to go, and he cried out "fire!" "fire!" as he ran along, hoping to arouse the Forge people. Not a window opened, however; not a man appeared. "There are enough who hear me, and know of it," he said to himself, indignantly, "but they don't wish to respond." Just at the foot of the hill on the main street was the nearest alarm box. Opening it, Ray gave the knob a quick jerk. It came off in his hand. The connecting wire had been cut; and no alarm from that box could be sounded.
"They mean to make thorough work of the mills to-night," he muttered. "No alarm can now be given without going clear to the central station." And for the second time that night he dashed off up town at his greatest speed.
Ten minutes elapsed before Ray could reach the central station, arouse the slumbering firemen, and have a general alarm sounded; and the destroying flames, fanned by that terrible wind, gained during that time a hold upon the mills that it was impossible to check. As soon as Ray had seen the first engine and hose cart go off toward the Forge, he ran on to Mr. Bacon's house, much farther up town. He succeeded in arousing that gentleman; and, having told him of the fire, he, at Mr. Bacon's request, went on to Mr. Lawton's residence. At his first ring, a window in the second story was thrown up, and a voice that Ray knew to be Edward's asked:
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"Tell your father, Ned, that the Forge Mills are on fire!" exclaimed Ray, with some show of excitement.
"Oh, it is you, is it, Ray?" responded Edward, no less excitedly. "Hold on a moment, and I'll tell father, and then join you. We'll go down together."
Ray was only too glad to take a brief rest after his long run, and sat down upon the steps until Edward appeared.
"I told father; and he and mother and Daisy have gone to the west windows, where they can see the flames quite plainly. But as father is not well to-night, he will not go down," he announced on joining his companion. Then, as they went on down the street together, he asked:
"How came you to know of it, Ray?"
"I came up to the village to-night, and went on down to the Forge for a while. I stayed longer than I meant to, and it was between eleven and twelve when I started up town, where I had left my horse. From the top of the hill I noticed a light in the mill yard, and watching it I saw that it was a fire. Then I ran back down there, trying to arouse the people, and to send an alarm from the fire box; but I found the wire had been cut, and so had to come back to the central station to give the alarm. From there I went to Mr. Bacon's house, and at his request I came to yours," explained Ray, briefly, not caring to tell his companion any more.
"It's the work of Hyde and his followers, fast enough," went on Edward; "but I wonder where the watchman was that he didn't give the alarm?"
"I don't know; I never thought of that," replied Ray, with a sickening fear at his heart, for he wondered if the four men had added the crime of murder to that of arson.
They had now reached the brow of the hill above the Forge, and had an uninterrupted view of the fire. A single glance showed that all the mills were doomed, and that the firemen would have all that they could do to keep the flames confined to the mill yard. It would have been a grand sight were it not for the devastation and ruin it brought. The mill yard contained about an acre, and taking all the buildings within its precincts, they numbered twenty. Every one of these was on fire, and the yard had the appearance of one solid mass of flames, which leaped into the air, as though defying the dark clouds that hung over, and threatened soon to drench them. The sombre background reflected the rays, so that for a long distance around the smallest object was plainly visible.
"It is just terrible, isn't it, boys?" asked a voice behind them, and they turned around to see Mr. Carleton. "I don't think I ever saw a fire that seemed so greedy, so eager to devour everything before it as this," he continued; "were you going down nearer?"
"Yes, sir," replied both lads, and they accompanied him down the hill, Edward meanwhile explaining how Ray had discovered the fire, and given the alarm.
"There can be little doubt that the fire is an incendiary one, and probably was instigated by the strikers," Mr. Carleton remarked. "When will men learn that they cannot make wrong right, nor help on their own interest by violence? The loss is going to be a terrible one." Then, more softly, as though to himself, "I wonder if eventhiswrath of man shall praiseHIM?"
They found on reaching the foot of the hill that ropes had been stretched across every street leading up to the burning mills, and that policemen were holding the vast crowd back from a nearer approach; so they stood there for some time watching the firemen as they heroically fought back the advancing flames, until a sudden and providential change of the wind revealed that the tenement houses would all be saved.
Mr. Bacon found them here, and questioned Ray more particularly as to his discovering the fire. The lad told his story freely, omitting only that he knew who the incendiaries were; and when he had finished, Mr. Bacon asked:
"You saw nothing of Jones, our watchman, then, and he in no way gave the alarm?"
"No, sir," replied Ray; "and I didn't even think of him until Edward spoke of it. It is strange."
"It is, indeed," said Mr. Bacon. "I got the firemen to look around the mill yard, but they could find no traces of him. I fear he has perished in the flames."
"There's a light in his house up yonder on the hill—shan't I go up there and see if he's there?" asked a small boy who stood by.
"Yes, if you will," assented Mr. Bacon, glancing off toward the house.
Mr. Jones, the watchman of the mills, was a stout, honest fellow, who lived all alone in a cabin half way up one of the hillsides. It was a singular circumstance, if he was not at the house, that a light should be there, and for this reason Mr. Bacon had thought it best that the boy should go.
The youngster darted away toward the cabin, but ten minutes later came back with big, staring eyes, declaring that Mr. Jones was there, but was bound to his bed, and couldn't move hand or foot, or speak a single word.
At this startling information, Mr. Bacon, Mr. Carleton, Edward Lawton, Ray, and two policemen, hurried off toward the house. On arriving there they found the man bound hand and foot, a wooden gag in his mouth, and utterly unconscious. While the men released the unfortunate watchman, Ray and Edward started up town for a doctor. They went to Dr. Gasque's office first, but the servant girl who answered the bell said that the doctor had just been summoned to Mr. Lawton's, who was seriously ill. Edward, at these sad tidings, hastened home, while Ray continued his search for a physician. He finally found one, and accompanied him back to Mr. Jones' house. The doctor administered restoratives, and after a half hour the man regained consciousness, and a little later could tell his story.
While doing his chores, preparatory to his departure for the mill, he had been suddenly seized from behind and dragged down to the ground. He was then bound and gagged, as he had been found, and carried into the house and laid upon his bed. He had not recognized any of his assailants, and soon sank into the state of unconsciousness from which he had just been aroused.
Mr. Bacon and Ray left the house together. Finding on their arrival at the Forge that the fire was under complete control, they continued their way up town. As they went along toward the village, Mr. Bacon remarked:
"The watchman's condition, and your finding the wire of the alarm box severed, Ray, shows that there was an organized plan to burn the mills. Of course, we know the strikers are at the bottom of the disaster, but we must, if possible, ascertain who the real perpetrators were that they may be punished. The Black Forge Mills corporation is ruined beyond recovery. When the strike occurred in July, more than half the insurance companies canceled their policies; quite a number of the other policies have expired since then, and the companies would not renew them under the existing circumstances. I believe, as an actual fact, only two policies of five thousand each were still in force, and we may have trouble to collect even them. So, you see, the fire to-night gives no possible hope of the mills being rebuilt by the present company. Some of our stockholders will by this fire lose every dollar they possessed."
They had now reached the corner of Prospect Avenue, and Mr. Bacon turned to go up to his home. Just then a man came rapidly toward him.
"Mr. Bacon," he said, "Mr. Lawton is dead, and the family would like to have you come to the house at once."
"Mr. Lawton dead!" exclaimed Mr. Bacon and Ray together.
"Yes," replied the man. "You know he has long been troubled with the heart disease, and had been quite unwell all the evening. When he was told of the fire, he got up and went with his wife and daughter to the west windows of the house and watched the flames for some time. All at once he said to his wife: 'There are only two policies in force on the mills, Ida, and the company is ruined.' And then he sank unconscious upon the floor. His wife and daughter got him back to his room, and sent for Dr. Gasque, but before the doctor arrived he was dead. 'Heart disease and over excitement,' the doctor says it was, and the family have sent me to find you. I just came from your house, and, as your family know I'm looking for you, you may as well go right on to Mr. Lawton's."
"Certainly," replied Mr. Bacon. And he went off with the man to the bereaved household, while Ray got his horse and drove off to Long Point Farm.
He arrived there just at dawn, worn out with his strenuous exertions, worried at the terrible loss of the mills and the consequences it involved, and sorrowful for the sad calamity that had befallen the Lawton family. But this was not all the burden he carried. Greater than they all, and involving a greater responsibility so far as he was concerned, was the crushing secret buried deep in his own bosom. He also knew who it was that had set fire to the Black Forge Mills, and a single word from him would bring upon the perpetrators of the outrage the justice which they so richly deserved.