.

"Eh? Whatever's what?" said the artist, slowly, looking in the same
direction. "Why, as Pat would say, it isn't to-morrow morning, and the
sun never rises in the west, or he'd be getting up now. Why, by all
that's wonderful, it's--"

"Fire! Fire!" shouted Will, wildly.

"Yes," cried Josh, in a husky voice, "and it's at the mill."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

GOOD SERVANT--BAD MASTER.

There was no stopping to put away artificial fly material. Hat and caps
were snatched up, and the next minute all three were running as fast as
the rugged stones and the dangerous nature of the path would allow,
downward towards the mill, their faces suffused by the warm glow which
rose from out of the valley beyond the trees.

For a few moments the pat, pat of the runners' feet, and the rattle and
rush of the stones they dislodged were the only sounds to be heard.
Then came a loud shout from below, a confused murmur of voices, the wild
shriek of a woman, followed by the hoarse voice of a man, shouting
"Fire! Fire!" the last time to be drowned by the loud clang of the
mill's big bell, whose tongue seemed to be giving its utterances in a
wild, hysterical way, as rope and wheel were set in motion by a pair of
lusty arms.

There were a couple more zigzags to descend, which never had seemed so
long to Will before, and meanwhile the buzz of voices, mingled with
shouted orders, grew louder and more confused.

"Shall we never get there?" panted Will.

"Take it coolly, my boy," cried the artist.

"Steady! Cool! Steady!" snapped out Will. "Who can be cool at a time
like this?"

"You," said Manners, "and you must. We don't want to get there pumped
out and useless in an emergency. We want to help."

"Ha!" panted Josh, as if satisfied with their friend's utterance, and
feeling that it exactly expressed his feelings.

"Oh, the poor old mill!" cried Will, as the next minute they came full
in sight of the long wooden range of buildings, up one end of which, as
if striving to reach the bell turret, great tongues of fire were gliding
steadily in a ruddy series, licking at board and beam as they pursued
their way.

Just then a thought struck Will, and he breathlessly shouted--

"The engine! The engine! Who says my father was foolish now?"

"I say he was a Solomon," cried Manners. "Hurrah, boys! Let's have the
engine out! Plenty of water! Take it coolly; we'll soon have her going
now."

He had hardly finished speaking w