At the post the men had doubled out under Lieutenant Ranson with wet
horse-blankets, and while he led G Troop to fight the flames, H
Troop, under old Major Stickney, burned a space around the post,
across which the men of G Troop retreated, stumbling, with their ears
and shoulders wrapped in the smoking blankets. The sparks beat upon
them and the flames followed so fast that, as they ran, the blazing
grass burned their lacings, and they kicked their gaiters ahead of
them.
When the regiment arrived it found everybody at Fort Crockett talking
enthusiastically of Ranson's conduct and resentfully of the fact that
he had regarded the fire as one which had been started for his
especial amusement.
"I assure you," said Mrs. Bolland to the colonel, "if it hadn't been
for young Ranson we would have been burned in our beds; but he was
most aggravating. He treated it as though it were Fourth of July
fireworks. It is the only entertainment we have been able to offer
him since he joined in which he has shown the slightest interest."
Nevertheless, it was generally admitted that Ranson had saved the
post. He had been ubiquitous. He had been seen galloping into the
advancing flames like a stampeded colt, he had reappeared like a
wraith in columns of black, whirling smoke, at the same moment his
voice issued orders from twenty places.
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