In a few
minutes, some one came rattling at the front door, and I was sure it was
Jack. But it was Mr. Morris, and without a word to us, he set off almost
running toward the town. We followed after him, and as we hurried along
other men ran out from the houses along the streets, and either joined
him, or dashed ahead. They seemed to have dressed in a hurry, and were
thrusting their arms in their coats, and buttoning themselves up as they
went. Some of them had hats and some of them had none, and they all had
their faces toward the great red light that got brighter and brighter
ahead of us. "Where's the fire?" they shouted to each other. "Don't
know--afraid it's the hotel, or the town hall. It's such a blaze. Hope
not. How's the water supply now? Bad time for a fire."
It was the hotel. We saw that as soon as we got on to the main street.
There were people all about, and a great noise and confusion, and smoke
and blackness, and up above, bright tongues of flame were leaping
against the sky, Jim and I kept close to Mr. Morris's heels, as he
pushed his way among the crowd. When we got nearer the burning building,
we saw men carrying ladders and axes, and others were shouting
directions, and rushing out of the hotel, carrying boxes and bundles and
furniture in their arms.
Pages:
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365