orrow; all the rest appeared indifferent,
and some showed, openly enough, that they thought the fire glorious
sport. Rachel turned away and went into the house.

All this time the young Consul was standing at the corner window, on the
north side of the small sitting-room. The pitch-house was now blazing
inside; the flames came bursting out of the door, and followed the line
of melted pitch which flowed along the ground. The thick wooden walls
were glowing with the heat, and he could see the people shrink back when
they got too near them. The wind was blowing so strongly, that it beat
down the smoke and shrouded the engines and spectators from his view,
but upon the roof of the storehouse he could see Uncle Richard, in
company with some other forms, working away with the wet sail. The
storehouse was only a few yards distant from the pitch-house, and was
thus so close under the stern of the ship that she was as good as lost,
if the fire once happened to catch the former building.

The Consul could see that they had got the sail drawn over the roof; but
at that instant the tiled roof of the pitch-house fell in, and the
flames suddenly shot high into the air, and were borne by the wind right
down on to the storehouse. The _attache_, and those that were with him,
had to get down from the roof on the other side as best they might.

A step was heard running up the stairs and through the passage.

"Father! father!" It was Morten, who dashed in breathless and dripping.
"Father, we must have some powder; the storehouse must be blown up!"

"Nonsense!" answered the Consul, drily. "Why, it is right under the very
stern of the ship."

"Well, I don't know," answered Morten, "but something must be done. I
don't see much good in those old fire-engines."

The young Consul drew himself up; he seemed to hear an echo of all the
disagreements there had been between them. It was the old story, the new
against the old, and he answered shortly and coldly--

"I am still the head of the firm. Go back and do your duty, as I
directed."

Morten turned and left the room with an air of defiance. The idea of
using powder had taken his fancy, although it was not his own. An
engineer had been standing behind Morten with his hands in his pockets,
after the manner of engineers, and had said, as engineers do say, "If I
had my way, I'm blest if I wouldn't do different to this."

"What would you do?" asked Morten.

"Powder!" answered the engineer,