ed by those who had fallen and
crushed them down.

Again and again he had plunged in under the canvas, feeling in the
darkness amidst entangled chairs, portions of the table, with the chaos
of broken china, glass, and cutlery, hoping that he was exactly in the
place where Miss Deane must be, but always disappointed and helping to
carry out someone else.

At last, when the fire began to burn, and the suffocating smoke to roll
out, people hung back, and cries were raised for the engine and for
buckets of water. But the barrack engine was already there, at the far
end of the wreck, and the soldiers who manned it were striving hard to
get out the hose and fit it together.

"My niece! my niece!" shrieked a voice close by; and, recognising the
frantic woman who strove to escape from those who held her and to aid in
the search, Dick made a fresh plunge in beneath the canvas, working
round, cutting himself badly, and still in vain, till, half-suffocated,
he was forced to try and creep back, but only to find that there in the
darkness, where he was crawling, he had lost his way.

For a few minutes his senses reeled, and he felt as if all were over;
but he recovered directly, for, in groping along, his hands touched
something soft--a warm, bare arm, and the next minute he realised its
owner's position. She was held tightly by someone, and there were
pieces of the frame of the marquee and a portion of a pole forcing them
down; while over all the folds of the canvas and drapery lay thick.

Left to himself Dick, and those whom he had found, must have perished;
but as he struggled up, and beat at the tent overhead, there arose
assuring shouts from without. Orders were given; as many men as could
get a grip of the canvas seized it, and, just as Dick's senses were
going, a strip of the marquee was dragged from over them, and then
willing hands extricated the lady and the officer, who had evidently
fallen with her while trying to bear her forth.

A few moments in the free air revived Dick, and he gasped out, as the
men around began to talk--

"Who--who was it?"

"Mr Lacey--a lady," were the words that came back. That was enough.
He felt sure of whom it would be, and turned once more towards the ridge
of wood and canvas, from which flames were now beginning to leap.

"Keep back, my lad! Are you mad?" shouted an officer.--"Here--quick
now--pass buckets!"

Dick's answer was to give his hand a wave and dash right in among t