Barefoot as he was, being clad only in his shirt and trousers, he leapt down the hill and never felt his wounded feet. Jenny saw him go, saw the crowd break and waver, saw it turn and flood the lower hillside, moving down. Their lighted faces turned from her, she saw them run. "Oh, Tchorch, oh, Tchorch!" But George never heard her feeble cry in the torrent. He had forgotten her and the boy. And when she could again see for her tears she was alone save for Sam, her faithful Sam, and Annawillee and Indian Annie, the last to climb the hill. Even Chihuahua had gone and all the Chinamen. She saw Wong departing last of all. The fire drew even the philosopher. She heard Annie speak to her. "Ho, tenas Jenny, toketie Jenny, dis your man, mesachie Pete. Evelybody savvy Pete done um, Jenny. Oh, what peety toketie house mamook piah, all bu'n, all flame." "Oho, hyu keely, hyu keely," moaned Annawillee, "pletty house mamook piah. Mamook nanitch you' papoosh, Jenny, let me see papoosh." These were foul and filthy hags, and now Jenny knew it. She cried and Sam did not know what to do. "Missus, you no cly," he said despairingly. But still she cried, and Annie sat down by her. "Where Mista Quin klatawa? Ha, Moola mamook piah all same yo' toketie house, tenas. Now you got halo house, you come mine, Jenny." And Annawillee lifted the quilt from the baby and saw it. "Hyu toketie papoosh, hyu toketie, ha, I love papoosh, Jenny's papoosh." "What I do, Sam?" moaned Jenny. The Mill was in a roar of flames. It lighted the town and the river and the white canneries across the wide red flood. "Oh, you come down to sto'e," said Sam. Where else could she go but to the store? Why hadn't the big boss told him what to do? For everything outside the house Sam was as helpless as the very papoose. He hated and loathed the Siwashes and their klootchmen. They were dreadful, uncleanly people. It was his one great wonder in life that "Missus" was a Siwash klootchman. "You come down to sto'e," he said. "You come my house, Jenny," said Annie, who thought if she gave Jenny shelter she would get more dollars from Quin, who lately had refused her anything. "You come my house, tenas." But Sam held her tight and helped her on the difficult path. Her feet were bare and so were his. Neither Annie nor Annawillee had mocassins on, the soles of their feet were as hard as horn. They went down the hill slowly, and still the old hag said-- "You come my shack, tenas, bad for papoose to be out night." Every stick and stone of the path was lighted for them. Jenny's heart was in ashes for the grief of "Tchorch," who so loved his Mill and his house. All her beautiful clothes were burnt. Perhaps Pete would kill him even now. "Oh, where is Tchorch?" she cried as they came to the bottom of the hill. And the wavering crowd kept on saying where he was. "The boss is on the river." "Went in a boat, pardner----" "Oh, but he was mad! I wouldn't be the Siwash----"