How the men cheered and pumped; and how the sweat streamed down their faces as they sent the handles down on each side, “thud—thud; thud—thud;” and how the streams of water dashed into the burning building, battling with the forked tongues of the fire, inch by inch, and turning the glowing timbers into black, smoking, charred masses; while volumes of steam and smoke now ascended where all before was flame. “Hiss—hiss—hiss,” went the raging flames as the cold streams interposed between these fiery dragons and their prey; and “ciss—ciss—ciss,” rushed the water sputtering from the copper tubes the captain of the brigade and his lieutenant held in their hands. Famously was the engine kept going, for a barrel of beer was brought down, and the men relieved each other, and partook of the refreshing draughts handed to them from the cask.
All at once there was a warning cry, and a hurried rush of many feet, for ore of the great corn-ricks, which had burned to the very core, had toppled over, spreading its glowing ashes right across the yard, and a shower of sparks high up in the air, like a golden whirlwind, setting fire to the loose straw that lay about in all directions. But for the presence of the engine, the fire would now have spread in another direction; but the powerful streams of water that were dashed all over the place soon extinguished the many little fires that had sprung up, and Mr Inglis leading on a body of men with buckets to throw water where it would have good effect, the engine branches were directed again at the large barn, which was greatly in need of attention, for during the brief pause the flames had leaped up with renewed violence; but the steady streams of water soon began to tell upon them, and that too so well, that in the course of an hour, one branch was considered enough to finish the task of extinguishing the fire in that building, and the other poured an unintermitting stream upon each and every part of the yard where the flames were.
The danger of the ruin spreading was now entirely at an end; and every minute the glare became duller and fainter. The “clank-clank: thud-thud” of the engine still kept on hour after hour, for the smouldering heaps of ashes every now and then burst out into flame; but a shower from the branches soon reduced its brightness to a cloud of steam and smoke. The day had long dawned, and at last up rose the sun upon the scene of devastation, and a sad sight it was, and the more so from the whispers abroad that it was the work of some evil-minded person, who, for reasons of his own, had set fire to the stacks; but happily this afterwards proved not to have been the case, for the fire was the result of an accident: a tramp, who had lain down in the straw to sleep, having dropped the match with which he lit his pipe, when the dry straw caught fire, and the flames ran up the side of the stack by his side in a few seconds.
It was indeed a sad sight, for all around lay sodden and blackened straw, charred beams, and smoking rafters, half-burnt boards, scorched sacks; in short, it was a scene of ruin, and the smoke and steam ascended in clouds towards the bright morning sky. An occasional dash from the branch was now sufficient to keep the fire under, and the greater part of the worn and jaded working people, after partaking of refreshments at the Grange kitchen, went home to snatch a few hours’ rest, and among those who went to seek rest were Mr Inglis and the boys. But on entering the house they found the blinds open, and the breakfast cloth spread, so that they all sat down to a refreshing meal; after which everybody declared that it would be a pity to go to bed on so bright a morning.
Fred seemed, however, to have something on his mind; and at last stammeringly asked his uncle if this disaster would not prove a serious loss. His fears, however, were set at rest by Mr Inglis, who smiled, and told him that it would have been, but for the exercise of prudence and forethought, for, said he—
“If I had not been insured, it would have been a much more terrible affair; but now the insurance company will either pay me the full value of everything that has been destroyed by way of compensation, or build up the whole of my barns and fill them again, so that you see I shall have new ones instead of old.”
“But they can’t build a new horse and pigs again,” said Harry.
“No, poor creatures,” said Mr Inglis; “that was a sad death for them. However, we have the satisfaction of knowing that we did our best to save them.”
“But what is insurance?” inquired Fred.
“Why, to explain it simply,” said Mr Inglis, “a body of men join together, and pay each of them a small sum of money yearly into a place of business, which they have in London; and then, when anybody who belongs to them has a misfortune, and his place is burnt, he has, from this money that has been paid up in littles, enough sent to him to pay for all the damage that has been done. Some people keep on paying in all their lifetime, and never have a misfortune, and so that money goes to help those who have. Thus in my time I have never had a mishap of this kind before, but have been paying year after year, for a very long time, and what I have paid has gone to help those who have been in trouble; now my turn has come, and I shall write to London to the people who manage, when they will send down a gentleman to see what is the amount of damage done, and then they will pay me the money at once, or, perhaps, repair the damages. So you see, my boy, there is nothing like prudence and foresight, not only in guarding against fire, but in all things.”