and roar increased, culminated,
rushed past and gone in a moment.

Gillie dropped to the ground as if he had been shot, seized the
Captain's hand, and attempted to drag him along. He might as well have
tried to drag Vesuvius from its base, but the Captain was willing. A
hansom-cab chanced to be in front of them as they dashed into the road,
the driver smoking and cool as a cucumber, being used to such incidents.
He held up a finger.

"Quick, in with you, Cappen!"

Gillie got behind his patron, and in attempting to expedite his
movements with a push, almost sent him out at the other side.

"After the ingine--slap!" yelled Gillie to the face which looked down
through the conversation-hole in the roof, "double extra fare if you
look sharp."

The cabman was evidently a sympathetic soul. He followed in the wake of
the fire-engine as well as he could; but it was a difficult process,
for, while the world at large made way for _it_, nobody cared a straw
for _him_!

"Ain't it fun?" said Gillie, as he settled his panting little body on
the cushion beside his friend and master.

"Not bad," responded the Captain, who half laughed at the thought of
being so led away by excitement and a small boy.

"I'd give up all my bright prospects of advancement in life," continued
Gillie, "to be a fireman. There's no fun goin' equal to a fire."

"P'r'aps it don't seem quite so funny to them as is bein' burnt out,"
suggested the Captain.

"Of course it don't, but that can't be helped, you know--can it, sir?
What can't be cured must be endoored, as the proverb says. Get along,
old fellow, don't spare his ribs--double fare, you know; we'll lose 'em
if you don't."

The latter part of the remark was shouted through the hole to the
cabman, who however, pulled up instead of complying.

"It's of no use, sir," he said, looking down at the Captain, "I've lost
sight of 'em."

Gillie was on the pavement in a moment.

"Never mind, Cappen, give him five bob, an' decline the change; come
along. _I_ see 'em go past the Bridge, so ten to one it's down about
the docks somewheres--the wust place in London for a fire w'ich, of
course, means the best."

The idea of its being so afforded such unalloyed pleasure to Gillie,
that he found it hard to restrain himself and accommodate his pace to
that of his friend.

It soon became very evident that the fire was in truth somewhere about
the docks, for not only was a dense cloud of smoke seen ris