The Camp Fire Girls on the Open Road Part 15

"The cotton storehouse!" exclaimed Justice in a horrified voice. "Hurry!"

For once Sandhelo responded to my urging without argument, and we soon arrived on the scene of the blaze. Elijah b.u.t.ts' plantation is about three miles from Spencer, and no water but the well and the cistern.

"This is going to be a nice mess," said Justice, jumping out of the car and charging into the throng of gaping negroes who stood around watching the spectacle. The family of b.u.t.ts had not returned from the pageant yet, having taken Miss Fairlee for a drive in the opposite direction. A few neighbors had gathered, but they stood there, gaping like the negroes and not lifting a hand to save the cotton.

"Here you, get busy!" shouted Justice, taking command like a general.

Under his direction a bucket brigade was formed to check the flames as much as possible and keep the surrounding sheds from taking fire. "Go through the barn and bring out the horses and cows, if there are any there," he called to me.

I obeyed, and brought out one poor trembling bossy, the only livestock I found. Then Justice turned the command of the bucket brigade over to me and started in with one or two helpers to remove the cotton from the end of the storehouse that was not yet ablaze. He worked like a Trojan, his face blackened with smoke until it was hard to tell him from the negroes, the remains of his pageant costume hanging about him in tatters.

"Somebody started this fire on purpose," he panted as he paused beside me a moment to clear his lungs of smoke. "There's been oil poured on the cotton!"

Just at that moment the b.u.t.ts family returned, driving into the yard at a gallop. Mr. b.u.t.ts' wrath and excitement knew no bounds and he was hardly able to help effectively; he ran around for all the world like a chicken with its head off. a.s.sistance came swiftly as people began to arrive from far and near, attracted by the blaze, but if it hadn't been for Justice's timely taking hold of the situation not a bit of the cotton would have been saved, and the house, barn and sheds would have gone up, too.

Conjectures began to fly thick and fast on all sides as to how the fire had started, and a whisper began going the rounds that soon became an open accusation. One of the negroes that works for Mr. b.u.t.ts swore he saw Absalom going into the storehouse that afternoon. My heart skipped a beat. He had not been at the celebration. Was this where he had been and what he had done the while? Elijah b.u.t.ts was stamping up and down in such a fury as I had never seen.

"He couldn't get out!" he shouted hoa.r.s.ely to the group that stood around him. "He's locked in the woodshed, I locked him in there myself, and there isn't even a window he could get out of!"

I started at his words. So that was where Absalom had been that afternoon. He hadn't deliberately disappointed me, then. But--Elijah b.u.t.ts hadn't said that afternoon that he had locked Absalom up at home.

He had pretended to be much mystified over the non-appearance of his son.

Why had he done so? The answer came in a flash of intuition. Elijah b.u.t.ts had probably had a set-to with Absalom over some private affair and had locked him up as punishment, but he didn't want Miss Fairlee to know that he had kept him out of the patriotic pageant and so he had denied any knowledge of Absalom's whereabouts. "The old hypocrite!" I said to myself scornfully.

"Your woodshed's wide open," said someone from the crowd. "We were in there looking for a bucket. The door was open and there wasn't n.o.body in it."

"He got out!" shouted Elijah b.u.t.ts in still greater fury. "He got out and set fire to the cotton to spite me! Wait until I catch him! Wait till I get my hands on him!" He stamped up and down, shouting threats against his son, awful to listen to.

"I thought he'd drive that boy to turn against him yet," said Justice, drawing me away to a quiet spot, and mopping his black forehead with a damp handkerchief. "I can't say but that it served him right. After all, Absalom is a chip off the old block. That's his idea of getting even. He didn't stop to think that it was the government's loss as well as his father's. Well, it's all over but the shouting; we might as well go home."

We drove home in silence. Justice was tuckered out, I could see that, and I began to worry for fear his strenuous efforts would lay him up. I was still too much excited to feel tired. That would come later. All my energy was concentrated into disappointment over Absalom b.u.t.ts. I couldn't believe that he was really as bad as this. I didn't want to believe he had done it, and yet it seemed all too true. Why had he run away if he hadn't? I shook my head. It was beyond me.

Silently we drove into the yard and unhitched Sandhelo.

"Good night," said Justice, starting off in the direction of his cabin.

"Good night," I replied absently. I did not go right into the house. I was wide awake and knew I could not go to sleep for some time. Instead I sat in the doorway and blinked at the moon, like a touseled-haired owl.

It was after midnight and everything was still, even the wind. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Justice wearily plodding along to his sleeping quarters, saw him open the screen door and vanish from sight within.

Then, borne clearly on the night air, I heard an exclamation come from his lips, then a frightened cry. I sped down the path like the wind to the little cabin. A lamp flared out in the darkness just as I reached it and by its light I saw Justice bending over something in a corner.

"What's the matter?" I called through the screen door.

Justice turned around with a start. "Oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "Come in here."

I went in. There, crouched in a corner on the floor, was Absalom b.u.t.ts, his eyes blinking in the sudden light, his face like a scared rabbit's.

It was he who had cried out, not Justice.

"What's the trouble, Absalom," said I, trying to speak in a natural tone of voice, "can't you find your way home?"

"Da.s.sent go home," replied Absalom.

"Why not?"

"Pa'll kill me."

"What for?"

"Because I ran away."

"So you've run away, have you?" said I. "Why?"

"Because pa licked me and locked me in the woodshed and wouldn't let me come to the doin's this afternoon, and I just wouldn't stand it, so I got out and cut."

"When did you get out?" I asked, leaning forward a trifle.

"This afternoon," replied Absalom. "I thought first I'd come to the doin's anyhow and help you with those things I'd promised, but I was scared to come with pa there, so I went the other way. I walked and walked and walked, till I was tired out and most starved, because I hadn't brought anything along to eat, and I didn't know where I was headed for, anyway, and then I came along here and saw this shack and came in and sat down to rest. I must a fell asleep."

"You didn't do it, then?" said I, eagerly.

"Do what?" Absalom's tone was plainly bewildered.

"Set fire to your father's cotton storehouse."

"Whee-e-e-e-e!" Absalom's whistle of astonishment was clearly genuine. "I should say not!"

"Do you know who did?" asked Justice, watching him keenly.

"_Did_ somebody?" asked Absalom innocently.

"I should say they did," said Justice, puzzled in his turn. "Are you sure you don't know anything about it?"

Absalom shook his head vigorously. "I don't know anything about it," he said straightforwardly.

"I was sure you didn't do it," I said triumphantly. "I had a feeling in my bones."

"How does it happen that you weren't at the fire?" asked Justice wonderingly. "You must have seen the glare in the sky. People came for miles around. Didn't you see it?"

Absalom shook his head. "I must a slept through it," he said simply, and followed it with such a large sigh of regret for what he had missed that Justice and I both had to smile.

"Well, there's one thing about it," said Justice, "and that is, if you _didn't_ set fire to it, you'd better streak it for home about as fast as you can and clear yourself up. Everybody thinks you did it and your running away made it look suspicious. Besides, one of your father's men says he saw you coming out of the storehouse this afternoon. By the way, what _were_ you doing in there?"

Absalom met his gaze unwaveringly. "Me? Why, I went in there to get my knife, that I'd left in there yesterday. I couldn't go away without my knife, could I?" He pulled it from his pocket and gazed on it fondly,--an ugly old "toad stabber."

"See here, you weren't smoking any cigarettes in there, and dropped a lighted stub, perhaps?" asked Justice.

"No," replied Absalom, "I wasn't smokin' to-day. I do sometimes, though,"

he admitted.

"Well, you don't seem to be the villain, after all," said Justice, "and I'm mighty glad to hear it. So will a lot of people be. Things looked pretty bad for you this afternoon, Absalom."

"Honest?" asked Absalom. "Do folks really think I set fire to it? What did pa say?"