s head, and shouted, "Three
cheers for Morten Garman! Hip--hip---" But before he got to "Hurrah," he
fell back on his side and was snoring again. Gabriel left the room;
there was nothing to be done with Tom.

The wind was sweeping down over the meadow, and driving the thick smoke
from the pitch-house out over the fjord. All round the house it was as
light as day. Long tongues of flame were flying far away over the
fields, shedding their glare here and there on the front of a
whitewashed house, while up above on the level ground it was still dark,
under the shadow of the vessel. And now a glitter was seen, and a rumble
was heard in the direction of the town. The fire brigade was on its way.
And from the farmhouses which lay near, down over the fields, but
chiefly in the avenue leading from the town, people were to be seen
running, first singly, then two or three, then several together, until
the crowd in the avenue appeared like a close black mass, dotted here
and there with red-and-white specks. When Gabriel got down again to the
house he was at his wits' ends, and, leaning against the garden wall, he
sobbed aloud.

Some one came skirting along the wall; it was the schoolmaster, Aalbom.
He recognized Gabriel, and stopped. "Isn't it what I always said?" cried
he, triumphantly. "You are a regular Laban, standing here blubbering.
You might at any rate manage to lend a hand with the water, you lout!"

Gabriel sprang up, as if seized with a sudden inspiration, pushed the
master aside, and dashed down towards the building-yard.

"An ill-mannered cub," muttered Aalbom, as he continued his way to get a
good place from which to see the fire.

Rachel was naturally most anxious to make herself useful, but there was
nothing for her to do. She therefore stood on the steps in front of the
house, and watched the crowd streaming up from the town, while the fire
threw its ever-increasing glare down the highroad, which was now
thronged with people. Suddenly she heard a voice she recognized. "Out of
the way! Let the engines pass! Look out there--the engines! Out of the
way!" The crowd opened, and out of the throng came two rows of men,
dragging the red-painted fire-engine by a long rope. Jacob Worse was
running in front, shouting and giving his orders. He gave her a hurried
greeting as he passed, and away rumbled the engine towards the
ship-yard. It struck Rachel that his face was the only one that showed
any feeling of sympathy or s