As they flew past her tent, the scene seemed peaceful as ever; but ere the guy-ropes of the next were reached, a swirl of smoke and flame, prisoned until then by the outer fly of canvas, swept straight up into the sky in the first force of its escape; then bent silently to the breeze. So silently!--not a roar, not a crackle--just a pyramid of fire splitting the taut canvas into long shreds, which the wind flung in pennants of flame on the mess-tent as those two hacked silently at the ropes. There was no time for words; no time for thought. A quiver came to the solid-looking pile, a shimmer in the moonlight. Another rope--another--then a sudden sway, a crash of glass and china from within. Down! but with a creeping trail of fire within its folds! There was no lack of helpers by this time. Knives, hatchets were at work right and left upon the ropes lest the message of fire should find the tents taut. Colonel Tweedie was shouting confused orders in front. Dan Fitzgerald, after a quick inquiry if all were safely out, was back in the rear row, where the danger grew with delay. The din was deafening, yet the flames made no noise; it was the dark humanity yelling, as it capered over the big tent, treading out the curling snakes of fire. Seen against the glare of a burning pyramid behind, the figures showed like the demons in a mediæval Judgment beating the lost souls down to the worm which dieth not. Rose, standing to rest, now that abler arms were at work, felt a hurried touch on her shoulder, and turned to see Lewis Gordon holding out an ulster which he had fetched from his tent. 'Put it on,' he said unceremoniously, 'or you'll catch cold.' She flushed with surprise, then, as she complied, realising for the first time the havoc fire had made in her dress, continued to blush with an odd feeling of resentment. 'Where is Mrs. Boynton?' she asked quickly, to cover her confusion. 'I suppose you--I mean, she is safe, of course?' 'Of course. I haven't seen her though; but I heard your father calling to her. She must be with him. I'll see.' 'Mrs. Boynton? God bless my soul, isn't she with Rose?' cried Colonel Tweedie, who was still shouting excited orders to the crowd of coolies. 'She answered me and her tent is down. She must be out.' 'Mrs. Boynton! Has any one seen Mrs. Boynton?' Gordon's cry ran down the line without response. 'Gwen!--Gwen! the fools must have cut the thing down on top of her!' He had dashed up to the mass of ropes and canvas lying without beginning or end, in hopeless chaos. 'Gwen! Gwen!--are you there?' A muffled cry was audible now in the hush of the workers. 'Not stunned, that's one thing,' he muttered to himself before shouting encouragement. Rose was at his elbow and caught his whisper. 'The sparks, for God's sake, Miss Tweedie! I trust you. If the tent smoulders she may suffocate before we--Coming, Gwen, coming directly!'