"No, I won't—I know what I am doing, St. John."
"You shan't chop a hole in the roof," insisted the unreasonable young man.
A cry of derision went up from half a dozen of the boys.
"Take a back seat, St. John," advised one. "You are too scared to know what you are saying."
At this the spendthrift's face grew as red as a beet.
"Shut your tongue, Larry Wilson," he retorted. "I say you shan't chop a hole in the roof. It will let the wind get to the flames."
"We want to get the water on the flames," replied Larry.
"And I say you shan't touch the roof with the ax!" screamed St. John. "I command you to stop."
"All right then, we'll stop," said Larry, and Jack said the same. In a moment more they were both on the ground, the other lads with them.
"Fo' de land sake, de house will burn up suah now!" groaned one of the negroes.