They hurried out of the door and through the yard. The wind, as has been said, was from the east, but there was little of it and, except for the clanging of the bell, the night was very still. The fog was heavy and wet, and the trees and bushes dripped as if from a shower. There was the salt smell of the marshes in the air, and the hissing and splashing of the surf on the outer beach were plainly to be heard. Also there was the clicking sound of oars in row-locks. “Somebody is comin' over from the station,” gasped Captain Jerry. “Don't run so, Eri. It's too dark. I've pretty nigh broke my neck already.” They passed the lily pond, where the frogs had long since adjourned their concert and gone to bed, dodged through the yard of the tightly shuttered summer hotel, and came out at the corner of the road, having saved some distance by the “short-cut.” “That ain't Weeks's store,” declared Captain Perez, who was in the lead. “It's Web Saunders's place; that's what it is.” Captain Eri paused and looked over to the left in the direction of the Baxter homestead. The light in the window was still burning. They turned into the “main road” at a dog trot and became part of a crowd of oddly dressed people, all running in the same direction. “Web's place, ain't it?” asked Eri of Seth Wingate, who was lumbering along with a wooden bucket in one hand and the pitcher of his wife's best washstand set in the other. “Yes,” breathlessly answered Mr. Wingate, “and it's a goner, they tell me. Every man's got to do his part if they're going to save it. I allers said we ought to have a fire department in this town.” Considering that Seth had, for the past eight years, persistently opposed in town-meeting any attempt to purchase a hand engine, this was a rather surprising speech, but no one paid any attention to it then. The fire was in the billiard saloon sure enough, and the back portion of the building was in a blaze when they reached it. Ladders were placed against the eaves, and a line of men with buckets were pouring water on the roof. The line extended to the town pump, where two energetic youths in their shirtsleeves were working the handle with might and main. The houses near at hand were brilliantly illuminated, and men and women were bringing water from them in buckets, tin pails, washboilers, and even coalscuttles.