"There!" breathed Ward at last, and with a few twists, of his sinewy hands brought the couplings into close connection. Munro relaxed, drawing two or three deep breaths. Without the aid of his great strength the task could not have been accomplished. "Hook her over the chimney," gasped Keith. With some difficulty they lifted the loop of the throbbing hose over the chimney. "Down we go!" cried Keith, and slid hand over hand down the way thus made for them. The others immediately followed, and all three stood looking back. It was a wonder the building had stood so long, for in both stories it was afire, and the walls had apparently burned quite through. Indeed, a moment later the whole structure collapsed. A fountain of sparks and brands sprang upward in the mighty suction. "There goes our good hose!" said Keith. The remark brought them to wrath and a desire for vengeance. "I'm going to lick somebody!" cried Keith, starting determinedly in the direction of the engine. "We'll help," growled Munro. But when they came in sight of the engine their anger evaporated, and they clung to each other, weak with mirth. For the Monumental was "washed," and washed aplenty. This was natural, for now the water was pouring into her box from _both_ directions, and would continue so to pour until the hose coupled to Ward's engine had burned through. The water was fairly spouting up from the box, not merely overflowing. Her crew were still working, but raggedly and dispiritedly. Bert Taylor, his trumpet battered beyond all recognition, was fairly voiceless with rage. An interested and ribaldry facetious crowd spared not its sarcasm. "My crowd must be in the same fix!" gurgled Ward; "the back pressure has 'washed' them, too." Then the full splendour of the situation burst on him, and he fell again on Munro for support. "Don't you see," he gasped. "They'll never know! The hose will burn through. Unless we tell, they'll never know! We've got even, all right." At this moment Duane rode up, foaming at the mouth, and desiring to know what the assorted adjectives they were doing there. The crews awoke to their isolation and general uselessness. Bert Taylor, still simmering, descended from his perch. They followed the hose lines to glowing coals! "Here, this won't do," said Talbot; so they reported themselves before the news of a tragedy had had time to spread.