To Nick Ribsam it looked like the flaming sword of Hazael, sweeping across the highway; but it would never do to hesitate, and the mare galloped straight on.  The fiery serpents darted angrily at each other, but the head of the horse glided beneath and the boy caught a hot blast as he shot by.

“Where is the bridge?” shouted Nellie, who could see nothing, and who clung more desperately than ever to the supporting arm of her brother.

“It must be close at hand—­there it is!”

So it was, indeed, but the fire was ahead of them; the whole structure was one mass of flames, roaring and crackling with fury.

The scene that followed was a dreadful one:  the sight of the furnace-like structure set the mare wild, and she broke into a dead run toward the blazing mass of kindling wood, determined to plunge headlong into it.

Nick Ribsam rose to his feet, and bent back with might and main, but he might as well have tried to check a runaway locomotive:  the mare took the bit in her teeth and was beyond control.

With a presence of mind which did him credit, Nick wrenched her to one side, while she was at the height of this mad flight, so that the hub of the fore wheel struck a tree at the side of the road, checking the vehicle so abruptly that both traces snapped as if they were ribbons, and the mare continued her gallop in the direction of the bridge.

The momentum of Nellie threw her violently against the dashboard, while Nick, before he could let go the reins, was jerked out the carriage, and, lighting on his feet, ran a dozen steps ere he could check himself and free his hands from the reins.

He stopped almost on the edge of the creek, and caught one glimpse of the mare as she bounded out of sight into the smoke and flames, and was gone forever.

The lad felt a pang of sorrow for the foolish beast, who stood as good a chance of saving herself as he, had she but used a tithe of common sense; but there was no time for mourning, and he ran back to the vehicle, where Nellie was crouching, and crying violently.

“Why, Nellie, I am ashamed of you!” said her brother, reprovingly.  “Is it going to mend matters to sit down and cry?”

“But how can I help it, Nick?” she asked, rubbing her red eyes with her apron and trying to check herself; “I don’t see how you can keep from crying yourself!”

“I’m glad I ain’t such a ninny as you, and when I get home I am going to tell father and mother.”

“You needn’t be so smart,” said Nellie, beginning to fire up under the reproof of her brother; “you haven’t got home yet.”

“And mighty little chance I would stand of ever getting there if I should sit down like you and begin to blubber.  Come out of the carriage and go with me.”

Nellie’s face was very red and there were tears on her cheeks, her countenance wearing a strange appearance in the lurid haze around them.