CHAPTER XII.
THE CONFLAGRATION.
The grandeur of the scene upon which George and Ralph looked was indescribable, the slightest detail of which once seen could never be forgotten.
The lurid flames, surmounted by the thick, black smoke, towered upward as if to meet the lightning's flash, and then, as the wind and rain beat it down for a moment, the heavy clouds of smoke rolled down the valley like some funereal pall sent in advance of the death and destruction that was to come.
"What can we do?" cried Ralph, when the awe which the scene had brought with it gave place to fear for others, and a desire to avert suffering and destruction.
"We can do nothing," replied George, in a low tone. "We do not even know how to fight the burning oil, and are powerless to do anything, at least until others shall come to direct the work."
"But we can surely give the alarm and arouse the people," cried Ralph, as he attempted to rush out of the shed, but was prevented by George.
"Do you think there is any one within two miles of here who cannot see that blaze?" asked George, as he pointed to the mountain of flame. "We can accomplish nothing, therefore we will remain here quiet until those who are familiar with such scenes shall come."
Ralph recognized the common sense of George's suggestion even when it seemed impossible that he could remain idle, and while the two stood outside the shed, regardless of the furious rain, waiting for those to come who could direct their labor, they witnessed another scene, fitting companion to the one already pictured.