There was not a moment, not a second to be lost. The
ruffians' voices were growing fainter and she heard the sounds of
their horses' feet. Would they go away in time for her to
extinguish the fire? She ran to her attic room and cautiously
opened the shutter. Yes, they were mounting; and in the faint
light of the late-rising moon she saw that they were taking her
father's horses. A moment later, as if fearing that the blaze
might cause immediate pursuit, they dashed off toward the
mountains.
The clatter of their horses' hoofs had not died away before the
intrepid girl had opened the shutter of a window nearest the
ground, and springing lightly out with a pail in her hand she
rushed to the trough near the barn, which she knew was full of
water. Back and forth she flew between the fire and the convenient
reservoir with all the water that her bruised arms and back
permitted her to carry. Fortunately the night was a little damp,
and the stout thick door had kindled slowly. To her intense joy
she soon gained the mastery of the flames, and at last
extinguished them.
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