The whole yard was brilliantly illuminated; then we saw that our load by the garden fence was on fire, and burning fiercely.
Throwing on a few clothes, we rushed downstairs.

The hotel keeper and his hostler were already out with buckets of water, but could do little.
The load was ablaze, and those dry, pitchy witches' brooms flamed up tremendously.

Fortunately, the wind carried the flame and sparks away from the tavern and barns, or the whole establishment might have burned down.

The crackling was terrific; the firs as well as the witches' brooms burned.

Great gusts of flame and vapor rose, writhing and twisting in the wind.