"He must have come around from the other side," said Smith. "Now he's taking charge in front."
However so, the effect of his instructions could be noted almost at once. Several of the engines withdrew into Milk Street; others moved northward along Washington; still others southward, but all away from the now threatened point, which was the southwest corner of Washington and School Streets. It was plain that all efforts were to be directed toward preventing the fire from jumping east of this, and it was with this purpose that the street was being cleared—the decks cleared for action. And well might they be, for on the eastern corners, directly across from this point of highest hazard, were two buildings, each an object of peculiar interest and even reverence to Bostonians. One of these was the Old South Church; the other the home of the Boston Transcript—palladia both.
"Clear the street—get those people out of the way," came the abrupt order, and Smith and Helen found themselves hastily retreating toward Tremont Street, where for a few moments at least they might hope to be undisturbed.
Not so. Tremont Street was now all that Washington had been a few minutes before; and with a tremendous crowd of onlookers the two found themselves steadily forced back and out into the Common. In the space before Tremont Temple the fire fighters seemed thick as bees, and from their manner Smith knew that they were dealing with a situation very close at hand.
"I bet anything that the Palmer House has caught," he said to Helen.
"You're dead right, Bill," called a voice in answer. "The whole School
Street front's going. This is a fire, that's what it is—take it
from me." The voice trailed off into the whirlpool of sounds, but
Smith had heard all that he needed to know.
"This is more than a fire," he said gravely, his lips close to the girl's ear. "It is a conflagration. With a thirty-mile wind like this, blowing right into the heart of the city, no one can tell where it will stop. We had better go home."
"Go home! Why, what time is it?" asked his companion in surprise.
"We've only just gotten here!"
"We have been here," said Smith, consulting his watch, "just about an hour and a half. It is now twenty minutes to one."
"Twenty minutes to one?" exclaimed Helen. "My mother will certainly think we're lost. But I hate to go. It is magnificent, even if it is terrible."