The dry-salter's premises seemed to have been set on fire for poor Ned's special benefit that night. They suited his case exactly. There was more than the usual quantity of smoke to suffocate, and fire to roast, him. There was considerable danger too, so that the daring men of the brigade were in request--if we may say that of a brigade in which _all_ the men were daring--and Ned had congenial work given him to do. The proverbial meeting of Greek with Greek was mere child's play to this meeting of fire with fire. The inflamed Ned and the blazing dry-salter met in mortal conflict, and the result was tremendous! It made his brother firemen stand aghast with awful admiration, to observe the way in which Ned dashed up tottering staircases, and along smoke-choked passages, where lambent flames were licking about in search of oxygen to feed on, and the way in which he hurled down brick walls and hacked through wood partitions, and tore up fir-planking and seized branch and hose, and, dragging them into hole-and-corner places, and out upon dizzy beams, and ridge poles, dashed tons of water in the fire's face, until it hissed again. It was a fine example of the homoeopathic principle that "like cures like;" for the fire in Ned's bosom did wonders that night in the way of quenching the fire in the dry-salter's warehouse. When this had gone on for an hour, and the fire was at its height, Ned, quite exhausted, descended to the street, and, sitting down on the pavement, leaned against a rail. "If you goes on like that, Ned," said Bob Clazie, coming up to him, "you'll bust yourself." "I wish I could," said Ned. At that moment, Bob's brother David came towards them with the brandy bottle. "Have a glass, Ned, you need it," said David. Ned, although not a teetotaller, was one of the men who did not require spirits, and therefore seldom took more than a sip, but he now seized the glass, and drained it eagerly. "Another," he cried, holding it up. David refilled it with a look of some surprise. Ned drained it a second time. "Now," said he, springing up, and tightening his belt, "I'm all right, come along, Bob!" With that he rushed into the burning house, and in a few seconds was seen to take the branch from a fireman on one of the upper floors, and drag it out on a charred beam that overhung the fire. The spot on which they stood was brilliantly illuminated, and it was seen that the fireman remonstrated with Ned, but the latter thrust him away, and stepped out on the beam. He stood there black as ebony, with a glowing background of red walls and fire, and the crowd cheered him for his unwonted courage; but the cheer was changed abruptly into a cry of alarm as the beam gave way, and Ned fell head foremost into the burning ruins. The chief of the brigade--distinguishable everywhere by his tall figure--observed the accident, and sprang towards the place.