Even then it was
not the first thought which occurred; for the moment they arrived
O'Reilly, who was waiting, turned, facing them excitedly.
"Do you see that?" he queried, pointing to a black band that surrounded
the building in a complete circle.
Parker nodded understandingly; but Mead, who was city bred, looked
mystified. "What is it?" he returned.
"A firebreak," explained the Irishman. "Someone didn't want the blaze to
spread and scattered earth clear around the place, with a spade."
Leaning over he picked up a clod and thumbed it significantly. "It
hasn't been done a half hour. The dirt isn't even dry."
Brief as the time had been, already the frail walls were settling to
embers. There was nothing to do; and standing there the three men looked
understandingly into each other's faces. The same thought stood clear on
all; for all alike knew every detail of the story.
"The Indian, How Landor," suggested Mead adequately.
"Yes," corroborated Parker, "and I'm glad of it. I'm not squeamish, but
the Lord knows I'd never have used the place myself."
Of a sudden, O'Reilly, who had turned and was staring into the blaze,
faced about. That second he had remembered.
"Where's Craig?" he queried swiftly, glancing back the way they had
come. "Didn't he follow?"
Until that moment none of the three had thought of the other man. Now
they realised that they were alone. But even then two of the trio did
not understand.
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