“It hit me,” said Silent. “I was tryin’ to wake Brick up at the back door.”
“If they were in the office, they’re done for,” declared Cale Wesson. “That was a heap of ruins when I got here, and I was one of the first.”
Mrs. Wesson and Miss Miller, their dresses scorched, faces red from the heat, heard Cale Wesson’s opinion.
“Do you mean to say that Brick and Harp were in their office?” demanded Mrs. Wesson shakily.
“They went to bed at nine o’clock,” declared the bartender.
“My !” gasped Mrs. Wesson. “I can’t believe it. What was it, Cale? What started it?”
“I dunno.” Cale was glumly watching the flames eat through the buildings toward his store. “I’ve got to save what I can, Ma. You keep out of it, can’tcha?”
Cale hurried away toward the store, while Silent, Mrs. Wesson and Miss Miller went as near as possible to the blazing heap that had been the sheriff’s office and stood together, watching it.
The bucket-brigade had shifted their operations to putting out any small blaze that might occur on the opposite side of the street, as they knew that their puny efforts would avail nothing against that blaze, which sent fire-streamers far up into the sky, showering blazing cinders in the wind.
“Can it be possible that they were in there?” asked Miss Miller wearily, pointing at the flames.