He rushed down the slope, burst through wooden barriers and leafy
screens, shouting as he came. In the glare on the upper terraces there
were many people--men, women, children; some of the men vainly
endeavoring to fix and work unused hose-pipes; others dragging away
furniture, curtains, carpets that lay in heaps near the central hall;
the greatest number of them struggling with ladders, advancing and
recoiling in front of the low block at the further end of the
building.
"Are they all out?" shouted Dale. "Have they all been got out?"
Terror-stricken voices answered as he passed. "There's seven they
can't get at.... Seven have been left.... They're the little ones."
And running in the fiery glare, he thought: "Yes, mercy has been
vouchsafed me. This is my chance."
All things were plain to him; there was nothing that he could not
understand. This fire must have broken out in the low block he had
passed, and at first it seemed insignificant; as a precautionary
measure the girls were fetched out of that block; the bell had been
rung, and a messenger was sent galloping to summon the engine and
brigade which would not arrive for an hour; and the stupid guardians
of the place had wasted precious minutes in what they considered
another precaution only, carrying furniture from the big hall.
Pages:
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527