s cottage at Isabel's call, and gave them something more than his
usual surly greeting.

"Glad to see you are all right," he said. "Been expectin' you. Jest
stepped in to git my pipe."

"Much damage done?" asked Gwynne.

"Considerable, but I guess the shake'll take a back seat. City's on
fire."

"There are always fires after earthquakes," said Isabel, angrily.

"City's on fire. Thirty broke out s'multaneous. Water main's bust. Chief
of Fire Department killed in his bed, or as good as killed. There's
plenty left to fight the fire but nothin' to fight it with. Guess the
old town'll go up in smoke this time."

"My knees feel rather weak, too," said Gwynne. He turned to the
wharfinger, who was pulling leisurely at his pipe. "We--my mother and
Miss Otis, at least, may need this launch to leave the city with," he
said. "Can I rely on you? You shall have a hundred dollars if you let no
one steal it; and if the fire should reach this side, you are welcome to
a refuge on my ranch."

"I'll see daylight through any one that looks at it," said Mr. Clatt.
"This ain't no time to stand on ceremony. The army's called out already
to help the police keep order--the lootin' was disgraceful for about an
hour. Every rat tumbled out of his hole, and of course they went for the
saloons. I'm well enough known along here to be let alone when I show my
teeth. Your house is all right, miss."

This side of the hill was almost deserted; nearly every one seemed to be
watching the fires from the crest; but occasionally Gwynne and Isabel
passed a solitary person clinging to his possessions, or a small group;
and invariably were greeted with the same remark: "City's on fire. Water
mains were broken by the earthquake."

As they passed through the crowd on the hill-top, they received similar
information, although many added confidently that "something would be
done. The wind was sure to change to the west."

And so far, at least, the picture from the heights was by no means
appalling. There were a number of fires in the south, and a wall of
flame and smoke along the water-front near the Ferry Building. Had the
earthquake spared the mains they would merely have been spectacular.

Gwynne and Isabel, as they made the slight descent to the Belmont House,
saw two of their Japs sitting on the roof throwing down the bricks of
the fallen chimneys. Then they turned the corner and found Lady
Victoria, an opera-cloak thrown over her night-clothes, paci