‘Hush! the horses are frightened:  that is all,’ said Mr. Falkirk.  ’He’s——­what’s he doing, Wych?—­yes, he’s blinding the leaders; that’s it.  There!’

The intense anxiety which was smothered in every one of these words, Wych Hazel long remembered.  They saw, as he spoke, they could see Rollo at the horses’ heads, going from one to the other; they saw him dimly through the smoke; they caught the light of something white in his hand.  Mr. Falkirk had guessed right.  Then they saw Rollo throw himself postillion-wise upon one of the leaders.  In another moment the coach moved, doubtfully; then amid the rush and roar they could hear the cheer of their charioteer’s voice, and the frightened animals plunged on again.  Presently, encouraged perhaps by a little opening in the smoke, they dashed forward as heartily as ever, and—­yes—­the smoke was less thick and the air less dark, and momentarily brightening.  The worst was over.  Surely the worst was over, but the travellers drew breath if freer yet fearfully, till the lessening cloud and disappearing fire and stillness in the woods, said that had left the danger behind.  Black charred stems and branches began to show what had been where they now were; little puffs of grey smoke from half consumed tufts of moss and old stumps of great trees were all that was left of the army of fire that had marched that way.

The horses were brought back to a moderate going.  A quieting of the storm within accompanied the passing away of the storm without.  Fairly overcome now, dizzy besides with the almost flaming current which had blown full against her in that last charge through the fire, Wych Hazel drooped her head lower and lower till it rested on the sill of the window; but no one marked just then.  The women were drying their eyes and uttering little jets of excited or thankful exclamation.  Mr. Falkirk watched from his window what was to be done next.

‘We’ll have to put up, if it be onconvenient,’ said the driver.  ’Can’t ask a team to do more’n that at a time, sir.  ’Tain’t no tavern, neither—­but there’s Siah Sullivan’s; he’s got fodder, and food, allays, for a friend in need.’

‘How far is Lupin?’ called out Mr. Falkirk.  ’Aren’t we on the Lupin road?’

’Na—­it’s a good bit ‘tother side o’ that ‘ere flamin’ pandemony, sir, Lupin’s.’

’No it isn’t!  I mean Lupin, where Braddock’s mill used to be—­ old John Braddock’s.’

’ ‘Taint called Lupin now,’ observed the driver,—­’that ere’s West Lupinus.  Wal—­John Braddock’s there now; it’s four or five mile straight ahead.’

‘We can go there,’ said Rollo.  ’That will give us the best chance.’

Gently they took those three or four miles.  The open country to which they soon came, getting out of the woods, looked very lovely and peaceful to them; the fire had not been there, and quiet sunshine lay along the fields.  In the last mile or two the fields gave place again to broken country; a brawling stream was heard and seen by intervals, black and chafing over a rocky bed.  Then the road descended sharply, among thick leafage, fresh and fair, not pine needles; and finally at the bottom of the descent the stage stopped.