“I heard the gurgling sound very plainly,” said Uncle Dick. “There it is again. One might almost think there was water trickling into the building.”
“Or naphtha, judging by the smell,” said Uncle Bob. “It’s very curious. I have it!” he cried.
“What do you mean?” said Uncle Jack sharply.
“There has been an accident, as we supposed, at the naphtha works, and a quantity of it has floated down the stream and into our dam.”
“It has been very clever then,” said Uncle Jack gruffly, “for it has floated up stream a hundred yards to get into our dam, and— Good heavens!”
He sprang to the window and threw it open, for at that moment a heavy dull explosion shook the room where we were, and in place of the darkness we could see each other distinctly, for the place seemed to have been filled with reflected light, which went out and then blazed up again.
“Ah!” ejaculated Uncle Jack, “the cowards! If I had a gun!”
I ran to his side, and in the middle of the dam, paddling towards the outer side, there was a sort of raft with three men upon it, and now they were distinctly seen, for the black water of the dam seemed to have suddenly become tawny gold, lit by a building burning furiously on our right. That building was our furnace-house and the set of smithies and sheds that connected it with the grinding-shops and offices.
Uncle Jack banged to the window and took the command.
“Cob,” he cried, “run to the big bell and keep it going. Our lads will come. Dick, throw open the gate; Bob, follow me. Fire drill. We may nip the blaze in the bud.”