The head of the family, half stupefied with rum, stood leaning against the fence, his hands in the pockets of his ragged coat, a pipe in his mouth, gazing in a dazed sort of way upon the work of destruction; while the wife and children ran hither and thither, screaming and wringing their hands with never a thought of an attempt to extinguish the flames or save any of their few poor possessions.

“Sam Smith,” shouted Eddie, reining in his horse close to the individual addressed, “why don’t you drop that old pipe, take your hands out of your pockets, and go to work to put out the fire!”

“Eh!” cried Sam, turning slowly round so as to face his interlocutor, “why—­I—­I—­I couldn’t do nothin’; it’s bound to go—­that house is; don’t you see how the wind’s a blowin’?  Well, ’tain’t much ’count nohow, and I wouldn’t care, on’y she says she’s left the baby in there; so she does.”

“The baby?” and almost before the words had left his lips, Eddie had cleared the rough rail fence at a bound, and was rushing toward the burning house.

How the flames crackled and roared, seeming like demons greedily devouring all that came in their way.

“That horse blanket, Jim! bring it here quick, quick!” he shouted back to his servant.  Then to the half-crazed woman, “Where is your baby? where did you leave it?”

“In there, in there on the bed, oh, oh, it’s burnin’ all up!  I forgot it, an’ I couldn’t get back.”

Eddie made one step backward, and ran his eye rapidly over the burning pile, calmly taking in the situation, considering whether the chances of success were sufficient to warrant the awful risk.

It was the work of an instant to do that, snatch the blanket from Jim, wrap it around his person, and plunge in among the flames, smoke, and falling firebrands, regardless of the boy’s frightened protest, “Oh, Mr. Eddie don’t; you’ll be killed! you’ll burn all up!”

He had looked into the cabin but a day or two before, and remembered in which corner stood the rude bed of the family, their only one.  He groped his way to it, half suffocated by the heat and smoke, and in momentary dread of the falling in of the roof, reached it at last, and feeling about among the scanty coverings, laid hold of the child, which was either insensible or sound asleep.

Taking it in his young, strong arms, holding it underneath the blanket, which he drew closer about his person, he rushed back again, stepping from the door just as the roof fell in with a crash.

The woman snatched her babe, and its gallant rescuer fell fainting to the ground.  A falling beam had grazed his head and struck him a heavy blow upon the shoulder.

With a cry Jim sprang forward, dragged his young master out of reach of the flying sparks, the overpowering heat, and suffocating smoke, and dropping, blubbering, down by his side, tried to loosen his cravat.

“Fetch some wattah!” he called, “quick dar, you ongrateful white trash! you gwine let young Marse Eddie die, when he done gone saved yo’ baby from burnin’ up?”