“But, Mr. Bayard, Mr. Bayard—you ain’t got it through your head—I said I wouldn’t be the man to tell you, and I wish to gollyswash I’d stuck to it.”
“Bob! It isn’t the Mission?”
“Oh, sir—yes! They’ve set us afire!”
“Now, Bob,” said the minister, suddenly shooting up in the dark at Bob’s side, with coat and vest over his arm, “run for it! Run!”
The building was doomed from the first. The department saw that, at a glance, and concentrated its skill upon the effort to save the block.
The deed had been dexterously done. The fire sprang from half a dozen places, and had been burning inwardly, it was thought, for an hour before it was discovered. The people had been too poor to hire a night-watchman.
“We trusted Providence,” muttered Captain Hap. “And this is what we get for it!”
The crowd parted before the minister when he came panting up, with Bob a rod behind. Bayard had got into his coat on the way, but he had not waited for his hat. In the glare, with his bared head and gray-white face, he gathered an unearthly radiance.
He made out to get under the ropes, and sprang up the steps of the burning building.