To the eager inquiries of the little ones, they were answered that these
singular lights were called prairie-fires.
"What is a prairie-fire, father?" asked both the children at once.
"It is the burning of the long coarse grass which covers the prairie in
summer. This becomes very dry, and then, if a spark of fire chances to fall
upon it, it is at once all in blaze."
"Does it make a very big fire, father?" asked Susie.
"That depends upon circumstances, my child. If the grass is very high and
thick, as it sometimes is in the sloughs and moist places, it makes a big
fire, as you call it."
"Oh, how I wish I could see a prairie-fire close by us! Don't you, mother?"
"I cannot say that I do, my child; they are sometimes rather mischievous
visitors, and I would much prefer that they should keep at a respectful
distance."
"Mr. Jenkins told me that a man some ten miles from here had his stacks and
house and every thing he had, destroyed, a few days since, losing his whole
year's labour and all his clothing and furniture. The family barely escaped
with their lives.
"Is there any danger that the fire will come here, husband?" said Mrs.
Allis.
"There is danger, I suppose; but I hope we shall have no trouble of that
kind."
"Is there nothing that can be done to protect your property?"
"I shall try to _burn_ up what grows around the house and stack-yard in a
day or two, I think; but just now it does not seem possible for me to spare
the time.
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