ness of the nailed oak--I knew the
hopelessness of assailing the one and the other by ordinary means. But
surely there were beams still left in the dismantled cottages near the
church? What if we got one, and used it as a battering-ram against the
door?

The thought leaped through me like the fire leaping out of the
shattered skylight. I appealed to the man who had spoken first of the
fire-engine in the town. "Have you got your pickaxes handy?" Yes, they
had. "And a hatchet, and a saw, and a bit of rope?" Yes! yes! yes! I
ran down among the villagers, with the lantern in my hand. "Five
shillings apiece to every man who helps me!" They started into life at
the words. That ravenous second hunger of poverty--the hunger for
money--roused them into tumult and activity in a moment. "Two of you
for more lanterns, if you have them! Two of you for the pickaxes and
the tools! The rest after me to find the beam!" They cheered--with
shrill starveling voices they cheered. The women and the children fled
back on either side. We rushed in a body down the churchyard path to
the first empty cottage. Not a man was left behind but the clerk--the
poor old clerk standing on the flat tombstone sobbing and wailing over
the church. The servant was still at my heels--his white, helpless,
panic-stricken face was close over my shoulder as we pushed into the
cottage. There were rafters from the torn-down floor above, lying
loose on the ground--but they were too light. A beam ran across over
our heads, but not out of reach of our arms and our pickaxes--a beam
fast at each end in the ruined wall, with ceiling and flooring all
ripped away, and a great gap in the roof above, open to the sky. We
attacked the beam at both ends at once. God! how it held--how the
brick and mortar of the wall resisted us! We struck, and tugged, and
tore. The beam gave at one end--it came down with a lump of brickwork
after it. There was a scream from the women all huddled in the doorway
to look at us--a shout from the men--two of them down but not hurt.
Another tug all together--and the beam was loose at both ends. We
raised it, and gave the word to clear the doorway. Now for the work!
now for the rush at the door! There is the fire streaming into the sky,
streaming brighter than ever to light us! Steady along the churchyard
path--steady with the beam for a rush at the door. One, two, three--and
off. Out rings the cheering again, irrepressibly. We have