He ran off, returning soon with his horse, which pranced and snorted when it came within the smoke and heat. Mr. Polwhele and Dick knotted the rope to the animal’s collar, while the Squire covered its eyes with his coat. They turned its head away from the flames, and smote its flanks. It started forward, almost escaping from the grasp of Mr. Polwhele, who held it by the bridle. The post, already weakened by the previous straining, gave at last, and a portion of the roof fell in with a crash. The same operation was performed on a similar post in the opposite corner. This was brought down at the first pull, and all that remained of the brew-house was a heap of laths, beams, tiles, and broken utensils. They proceeded then to smother the ruins with water and earth, paying no heed to the blazing tool-house. After some twenty minutes the flames began to subside; they poured more water, as quickly as it could be drawn, on the glowing ruins, and had the satisfaction of seeing that the demolition of the brew-house had been effective. The fire spread no further; the Towers was saved. Panting and perspiring with their exertions, the four men stood for a while in silence, watching the gradual dwindling of the flames. "That bell may stop," cried Mr. Polwhele suddenly. "’Tis well pulled, whoever is doing it, but to little good, it seems. ’Pon my soul, I’m the only man that has come to its call." "Ah! You see how things are with me," said the Squire bitterly. "Not a soul cares whether the Towers burns to the ground, and I and mine in it. I remember, forty years ago, when the place took fire, the bell brought the whole village to our help. Now they’ll lie abed and laugh to think I’m homeless." "’Tis a disgrace and a scandal," cried the riding-officer, "and I’ll tell them so. The idiots, to suppose you would inform on them! I’ll set that right, Squire; I blame myself for not doing it before, but I believed they would come to their senses." "You will waste your breath, Polwhele. Don’t attempt it for me. I could tell you one way to dash their enmity, but that’s impossible." "What is it?" "Send John Trevanion where he came from. ’Tis he that is poisoning folks’ minds against us; yes, ’tis he." At this point Dick returned from the house, whither he had been to stop the ringing of the bell. Sam came with him. "Now, young Sam," said his father wrathfully, "’twas you that started this blaze, I’ll be bound, wi’ yer mischief and jiggery. I’ll leather ’ee, that I will." "Be choked if I did!" was Sam’s indignant cry. "Why do ’ee say it, Feyther? You think because I break a dish now and again that I do all the mischief, but I don’t care who the man is, I hain’t been nigh tool-house or brew-house this mortal day." "Then who did it? Tell me that." "I can’t tell what I don’t know, but if I med put a meanin’ to it, I’d say ’twas done by the same hands as cut our lines and set our boat adrift, be drowned to ’em."