“Because they know they can’t save the wing,” replied the Doctor; “they don’t want to increase the draught by breaking the windows before the heat destroys the glass, and they are fighting indoors to keep the flames from spreading to the main building.”
Almost as the Doctor spoke four of the upper story windows blew out, a rush of flame following and mounting high over the roof.
“There!” exclaimed Edith, “they must pour in the water now!”
“Why, you almost seem glad, Edith,” said the Doctor.
“Well,” pleaded Edith, “it seems so foolish not to pour the water where most of the fire is.”
Two streams of water now leaped up to the open windows and sizzled and snorted under the blazing eaves. The flames greeted the serpents of water with a howl of rage and defiance, and fresh clouds of smoke arose at the places where they fought together.
“I wonder where the boys are?” queried Edith.
The Doctor had been wondering the same thing.
In a great circle about the burning factory were the faces of the spectators gleaming in the firelight. The stillness of the crowd was astonishing. The crackle of the flames could be heard with a strange distinctness, and the hoarse voice of the engine foreman sounded clear above all other voices. Only when the window-glass fell out or some other fresh event of this kind happened, did the crowd make a noticeable sound. Then there would be a general murmur running completely around the circle.
If the Doctor and Edith could have seen more distinctly in the uncertain light the embankment to the south of the burning wing, where the crowd was thinnest, they would have discovered Allan and his two companions grouped closely in earnest consultation.