The Mill was empty. He looked round cautiously and then leapt out upon the floor. There was sufficient light for him to see by, and he saw that some man had at least taken precautions against him. There were buckets of water here and there: there was even a hose-pipe with a pump, a force-pump. There was another hose coming from the Engine-Room. These things showed him he had been feared: they showed him it would be hard to get away. But he had no time to think. With a savage grin he pulled out his knife and sliced the hose into pieces. He capsized the buckets as they stood. Then he fetched his oil-can from where he had put it, close to the Pony Saw, and emptied it at a spot which he chose, because the oil would run upon the sawdust carrier and go down past the fine cedar dust from the Shingler. Below the Shingle Mill was the water. He knew exactly where to find the spot where the oil would drip into the river. He ran back to the chute by which he had ascended and as he slipped into the chute he heard someone call. "Hallo, Dutchy, Dutchy!" said a voice. But Dutchy, the old one-handed German watchman, did not answer. Pete heard him who spoke break out swearing. "Goldarn the old idiot, I believe he ain't here," said the voice. It was the voice of Long Mac, a man to be feared, a strong man, a keen and quick man, a man with brains and skill and grit. Pete heard him enter the Mill and run upstairs, and he knew that in another moment Mac would know someone had been there, although old Dutchy had done what he should not have done, and had left the Mill to go to the other fire. There was no time to lose. He went silently for the canoe, and found it, got into it, and worked his way to the space under the Shingle Mill. Now the light of the burning house was bright upon the lip of the river, running on the first of the ebb against a warm Chinook wind. He heard Mac burst out into blasphemy. He had found no Dutchy, but cut hose instead. And then old Dutchy came running. He heard Mac curse him. "What did I tell you, you old fool? Didn't I say look out lively here! That swine's about now, by God! He's cut the hose, maybe lighted the Mill already!" "Ach, mein Gott, mein Gott," said Dutchy, "I haf not been afay von minute." "Oh, to hell," said Mac. He found the capsized buckets and burst out again. He spoke rapidly, and Pete, as he clutched at a pile, caught but a word or two. "Run--police--boat!" He understood what this meant: if he didn't do it now, he would have no time. At the sound of old Dutchy's steps on the boards as he ran overhead Pete struck a match and lighted dripping kerosene. The flame circled on a patch of board, and burnt blue and flickered, drawing upward through a crack. The Mill was fired! "I fix heem," said Pete; "if they catch me I fix heem all the same."