A man, hatless, in a purple sweater, carrying a tin pail in each hand, came running through the gate and down the central roadway. Some one shouted “Here he comes!” and here and there other men, working with hose or bucket, heard the shout and caught it up for sheer excitement, heedless of the cause.
“What's that?” said Du Bois. “It's all clear behind, ain't it? We ain't cut off?”
“Oh, no; we aren't cut off.”
“Say, Cap'n, I can't stand this; let's drop back a step or so. Lord knows we ain't doin' much good here. See her burn! I guess it's all day with Higginson & Company. Here come the fire boys—I see a helmet back there————No, they've quit. They're a-runnin' back, an' draggin' their hose with 'em. Who's this here a-comin' f'r us?”
“I don't know; I can't see.”
“It's himself—it's Mr. Halloran. Hi! What's that?”
“Back with you, quick!” Halloran was shouting. “Never mind the hose. Let it go. You'll have to run for it. One's enough here.”