to understand that he had no such property? And his wife,--was she not
at that very moment, if not serving up a lie upon the subject, at least
paring the truth very thin indeed?

"A man would think," observed Ferring, "that Ducklow had some o' them
bonds on his hands, and got scaret, he took such a sudden start. He has,
hasn't he, Mrs. Ducklow?"

"Has what?" said Mrs. Ducklow, pretending ignorance.

"Some o' them cowpon bonds. I rather guess he's got some."

"You mean Gov'ment bonds? Ducklow got some? 'Tain't at all likely he'd
spec'late in them without saying something to _me_ about it. No, he
couldn't have any without my knowing it, I'm sure."

How demure, how innocent she looked, plying her knitting-needle, and
stopping to take up a stitch! How little at that moment she knew of
Ducklow's trouble and its terrible cause!

Ducklow's first impulse was to drive on and endeavor at all hazards to
snatch the bonds from the flames. His next was to return and alarm his
neighbors and obtain their assistance. But a minute's delay might be
fatal: so he drove on, screaming, "Fire! fire!" at the top of his voice.

But the old mare was a slow-footed animal; and Ducklow had no whip. He
reached forward and struck her with the reins.

"Git up! git up!--Fire! fire!" screamed Ducklow. "Oh, them bonds! them
bonds! Why didn't I give the money to Reuben? Fire! fire! fire!"