It was easy for Ella to strain through the tiny crowd of folk up the embankment.
Fire singed Ella. Smoke dazed her, choked and repelled her.... "Go back dere, go back. You—stand back!"
"Where is Missah Poyah, where is Missah Poyah?" Ella screamed. A straw valise, label spattered—deckers luggage—an old shirt—one or two stray sacks of split peas—the money canister.
Faces; old Bruin, "Where is Missah Poyah?" Ella pursued madly, collaring the weed gourmand. "Where is Missah Poyah?"
"Stand back!" the constable ordered, "stand back, and let 'em bring in de stretcher!"
Old Bruin gave way, talking loudly and excitedly. "He is in dey, yes, he is in dey ... don't push me 'bout.... I tell yo' he is in dey. Yo' must be drunk yo'self."
It was then that Ella realized how for-nothing was her bucket of water.