“Och, it’s time!” cried Corney, delivering up the branch to Frank and Moxey; “sure Baxmore and me are melted intirely.”
Frank made no reply. He and Moxey directed the branch which the others resigned, turning their backs as much as possible on the glowing fire, and glancing at it over their shoulders; for it was too hot to be faced.
Just then the Chief of the brigade came up.
“It’s of no use, sir,” said Dale; “we can’t save these.”
“True, Dale, true,” said Mr Braidwood, in a quick, but quiet tone; “this block is doomed. Take your lads round to the nor’-east corner; we must try to prevent it spreading.”
As he surveyed the progress of the fire, with a cool, practical eye, and hurried off to another part of the battle-field to post his men to best advantage, little did the leader of the forces think that he was to be the first to fall that day!
Engines were now playing on the buildings in all directions; but the flames were so fierce that they made no visible impression on them, and even in the efforts made to check their spreading, little success appeared to attend them at first. Warehouse after warehouse ignited.
To make matters worse, a fresh breeze sprang up, and fanned the flames into redoubled fury; so that they quickly caught hold of vast portions of the premises occupied by the firm of Scovell and Company.
“There’s not a chance,” said Frank to Dale, while he wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and sat down for a few seconds to recover breath; for he had just issued from a burning building, driven back by heat and smoke—
“There’s not a chance of saving that block; all the iron doors that were meant to keep the fire from spreading have been left open by the workmen!”