Captain Eureton went to the captain of the fire-brigade. "You have lost no time; I feared some delay on the railway."
"Railway, sir? there is no railway from Sootythorn to this place."
"But you come from Bradford."
"Beg pardon, sir, we are the Sootythorn brigade—we come from Sootythorn. You telegraphed for us—anyhow, a Mr. Fyser did."
"He did right. What do you think of the fire?"
The fireman looked up. "It's a bad one. Been burning three hours? We may save the first floor, and the ground-floor. Not very likely, though. Where's water?"
"Small stream here;" the Adjutant led the fireman to the rivulet.
"Very good, very good. House burns most at this end, I see."
The hose was soon laid. There were two engines, and the firemen, aided by volunteers, began to pump vigorously. Two powerful jets began to play upon the south wing, and it was a satisfaction to Captain Eureton to see them well at work, though with little immediate effect. There being no sign of Fyser, the Adjutant concluded that he was waiting for the Bradford engines.
The whole remaining mass of roof now fell in with a tremendous crash, and the flames enveloped the gables, issuing from the windows of the uppermost story. The multitude was hushed by the grandeur of the spectacle. All the woods of Wenderholme, all its deep ravine, were lighted by the glare, and even at Shayton the glow of an unnatural dawn might be seen in the sky over the lofty moorland.