Rising up above the hoarse roar of the assembled mob, came the shouts of those who were on their way with the first engine. It seemed to be the herald of succour, but, alas! it was only the parish-engine, brought up by an energetic beadle, four men, and about twenty dirty ragged boys. The turncock arrived with it, and he, though able in the daylight to find the plug-hole blindfold, could not without great difficulty discover it, with his eyes briskly exercised, at night. At lengthy when the parish engine, bravely foremost in the rank, was ready, a mass of volunteers sprang forward to pump it. Mr. Turncock succeeded in pulling up the plug, and saturating a dozen venturesome persons, who with engineering spirits watched the operation. The hose of the parish-engine was at once connected with the stream of water, and with a hurrah the volunteers began to work the handles of the pump, but though they were made to sound jar-jar, jar-jar, jar-jar, briskly, nothing came of it. The parish-engine, as it has ever been from the hour it was first invented to the present time, was found to be practicably useless. No water could be forced into the directing pipe to play upon the burning house. The flames grew fiercer, the smoke denser, and crackling sounds of wood splitting, and the sputtering of sparks, were more distinctly heard. Then there was suddenly a mighty cry from the mob. At the upper windows appeared, shrieking for aid, the forms of two young girls. They were in their night dresses, and had evidently only just been aroused. Three or four brave young fellows rushed into the passage of the house to ascend the stairs to save them, but a sheet of flame suddenly leaped forth, and drove them back scorched. Thus victorious, it seized the staircase in its blistering embrace, and hissed and sputtered as it danced and darted upwards, cutting off with a species of savage joy all means of egress by that route. Shouts were raised for the fire-escape, as the attempting rescuers were forced back by the blinding burst of flame into the streets, and preparations were made, if the worst came to the worst, to receive with as much safety as possible those who would be called upon to leap from the dizzy heights of the upper floor as a last desperate resort to save their otherwise doomed lives. A distant hubbub, growing louder as it drew near, announced the approach of the fire-escape. Its advent was hailed with lusty shouts, and fifty volunteers rushed to facilitate its arrival, but impeding and retarding its progress in their meritorious desire to get it up to the scene of disaster as quickly as possible. This was the state of things when Hal looked out of window to ascertain where the fire had broken out.