“Yes; only I’ve got two or three things to do first. Let’s have a look at the fire.”
They started together toward the lower yards, and Stanley, after glancing back once or twice, leaned over and spoke in a carefully repressed undertone.
“There’s a tough-lookin’ feller been follerin’ you around all night,” he said. “He’s right behind us now. Glance around kind of careless-like an’ see if you know him.”
Allan glanced apprehensively over his shoulder, and then laughed outright as he recognized his faithful body-guard.
“Why, that’s Reddy Magraw,” he said. “He thinks I’m going to keel over any minute, and he’s ready to catch me when I do.”
“Oh,” said Stanley, in a chagrined tone; “I didn’t recognize him in the dark.”
“Didn’t you send him after me?”
“Send him? Why, no. Did he say I did?”
“No, I don’t know that he said exactly that. But if you didn’t, who did? I wonder—”
But they had reached the place where the cars were blazing, and the matter was driven from Allan’s mind for the time being. It was soon evident that all danger of the fire spreading further was over. The cars in the neighbourhood had been jerked away to a place of safety, and three or four lines of hose were playing upon the fire, with the result that it was soon under control. Six cars and their contents had been destroyed and twice as many more damaged to some extent, but this loss seemed trifling to Allan beside what might have been.