At his words an illuminating light came to my mind. The fire was not directed at the Pacific Mail docks. It was set to destroy the yards of the Kendrick Lumber and Milling Company, and it had succeeded. It was the crowning stroke of Peter Bolton’s assault on Wharton Kendrick’s fortune. I wondered whether Peter Bolton had himself set the match to the lumber-pile. The description by the watchman fitted him, and he did not lack the will for the deed. But it was so foreign to his cautious temper to take the risks of committing such a crime with his own hand that I hesitated to believe. Yet when he had once resolved upon such a step, it might well have seemed safer to him to perform the act himself, than to confide it to an accomplice who might betray him. I was turning over this problem in my mind, and watching with unconscious eyes the bold and resolute efforts of the firemen to fight back the flames, when I was roused by a flight of stones. Two of them struck the nearest engine; one knocked the hat off a man of my company; and a fireman was struck down, only to jump to his feet in a moment with a torrent of oaths. The fire chief roared a profane but vigorous condemnation of the assault, and devoted its authors to an even warmer place than the furnace that blazed before us. "That’s the fifth time we’ve got it," said the engineer, backing up his chief with a contribution of blistering words. I looked about for the assailants. "It’s those fellows up there on top of the bluff," said the fire chief. "They’ve been pelting the firemen and the police for half an hour. They can’t reach this end of the line very well, but they’ve made it hot for our men up near First Street. I hear they’ve killed some of the Vigilantes up there. The Vigilantes tried to rush ’em, but it’s up a hundred foot of narrow stair, and they had to give it up. I wish the whole gang up there was pitched into the middle of the fire." I looked up at the bluff, and saw a black mass lining its upper edge. Two or three hundred men and boys were clustered along its front, yelling and throwing stones. It was evident that their position could not be taken from the front. In no place was there less than fifty feet of sheer ascent. But I recalled that the bluff was open to attack from the rear by the way of First Street. "I’ll settle those fellows," I said. "I’ll see that you get the department medal, if you do," returned the fire chief. "But you can’t get up there without wings."