, one of wood, another of adobe; the first was a restaurant;
over its roof several foreign-looking men spread rugs and upon them
poured a red liquid.

"It's wine," Bob Ridley said. "But they'll never save it. Booker's store
is going, too. Looks like a clean sweep of the block."

Broderick's commanding figure could be seen rushing hither and thither.
"No use," Benito heard him say to one of his lieutenants. "Water won't
stop it. Not enough.... Is there any powder hereabouts?"

"Powder!" cried the other with a blanching face. "By the Eternal, yes! A
store of it is just around the corner. Mustn't let the fire reach--"

Broderick cut him short. "Go and get it. You and two others. Blow up or
pull down that building," he indicated a sprawling ramshackle structure
on the corner.

"But it's mine," one of the fire-fighters wailed. "Cost me ten thousand
dollars--"

Fiercely Broderick turned upon him. "It'll cost the town ten millions if
you don't hurry," he bellowed. "You can't save it, anyhow. Do you want
the whole place to burn?"

[Illustration: Broderick's commanding figure was seen rushing hither and
thither.... "You and two others. Blow up or pull down that building," he
indicated a sprawling, ramshackle structure.]

"All right, all right, Cap. Don't shoot," the other countered with a
sudden laugh. "Come on, boys, follow me." Benito watched him and the
others presently returning with three kegs. They dived into the building
indicated. Presently, with the noise of a hundred cannon, the corner
building burst apart. Sticks and bits of plaster flew everywhere. The
crowd receded, panic-stricken.

"Good work!" cried the fire marshal.

It seemed, indeed, as though the flames were daunted. The two small
structures were blazing now. The Parker House, reeling drunkenly,
collapsed.

Unexpectedly a gust of wind sent fire from the ruins of Dennison's
Exchange northward. It reached across the open space and flung a rain of
sparks down Washington street toward Montgomery. Instantly there came an
answering crackle, and exasperated fire-fighters rushed to meet the
latest sortie of their enemy. Once more three men, keg laden, made their
way through smoke and showering brands. Again the deafening report
reverberated and the crowd fell back, alarmed.

Someone grasped Benito's arm and shook it violently. He turned and
looked into the feverishly questioning eyes of Adrian Stanley.

"I've just returned," the other panted. "Tell me,