"Stop a moment," George said, putting his hand on his arm.
"What is it, George?"
"I don't know. It seemed to me, for a moment, as if I saw the big stack clearly and then it was dark again."
"How could that be, George?"
"I don't know; it looked to me as if it was a reflection of light from one of the windows at the back there. There it is again."
"Yes, I saw it," Bill agreed. "What can it be?"
"I don't know, Bill; let's run around to the back. There might be—it's awful to think of—but there might be a fire."
The boys ran down a narrow lane by the side of the works onto a piece of waste ground behind.
"Look, Bill, look at the glare in the molding-room. There must be fire. Here, help to put this bit of old timber against the wall."
The piece of wood was placed into position, the two lads climbed up it onto the wall, and dropped into the yard within. Just as they did so there was a clatter of falling glass, followed by a glare of light as a body of flame burst out from one of the windows.