No, we ain't got no squirts that'll reach. Best way to handle the
piles o' lumber is to start a line of bucket-men from the lake and
cover the piles with anything you can catch up--blankets, old carpets,
quilts; keep 'em soaked and ye kin fight it for a while; that's when
one pile's afire, and ye're tryin' to save the pile next t'it. Light
stuff is all over in half an hour--no matter how big the pile is--keep
the rags soaked--that's my way."

That night before the blazing coals Muggles broke out on some theories
of putting out a conflagration that made Bender sit up straight and
little Billy Salters cup his ears in attention. Monteith also craned
his neck to listen.

"Who the devil taught you that, Mixey?" asked Bender. "You talk as if
you were Chief of the Big Six."

"Why, any fireman knows that. I've been running with a machine for
years." The calm way with which Muggles said this, shaking the ashes
from his cigar as he spoke, showed a certain self-reliance. "Out in our
village I'm foreman of the Hose Company."

The sudden roar that followed this announcement shook the big glasses
and bottles on the low table.

"So you'd keep the blankets soaked, would you?" remarked Billy, winking
at the others.

"I certainly would." This came with a certain triumphant tone in his
voice.

"Learned that practising on his head," whispered Podvine.

"Right you are, Poddy; but Muggles, suppose the mill caught first,"
chipped in Monteith. The mill was the apple of his eye. Fire was what
he dreaded--he never could insure the mill fully against fire. "What
would you protect first--the mill or the piles of lumber?"

"The lumber, of course--the mill can use its pumps if the engine-room
escapes."

"Better save the mill," rejoined Monteith thoughtfully. "Trade is
pretty dull." Then he rose from his seat, reached for his hat and
strolled out on the portico to take a look around before he turned in.

Muggles's masterful grasp of a science of which his companions knew as
little as they did of the Patagonian dialects came as a distinct
surprise. What else had the beggar been picking up in the way of
knowledge? Maybe Muggles wasn't such a goat, after all. That Monteith
had approved of his tactics only increased their respect for their
companion. Muggles caught the meaning of the look in their faces and
his waistcoat began to pinch him across his chest. This life was what
he needed, he said to himself. Here were big men--the lumber-boss