"But my uncle's house is burned, I tell you," he protested.
"Outside!"
"I am also a member of the press."
"Outside the ropes!"
"You're a bully," cried the young citizen, pushing sturdily on his own side and fairly holding his own. "Sergeant!"
The sergeant in charge had come over when he saw trouble brewing and stepped closer at this personal appeal.
"I think you must know me. My name is Floyd. I am a nephew of Prof. Arnold, in whose house the fire is said to have started. Am I refused permission to pass the ropes?"
"I'm afraid there's little to be seen of your uncle's house, Mr. Floyd," quietly answered the sergeant, who knew him. "This gentleman is all right, Higgins."
Higgins nonchalantly moved a few steps off, doubtless reflecting that he had only erred on the side of vigilance.
"But the servants—do you know where they may be found?"