“That was before we had a steam fire-engine. There was only a hand-machine downtown--damn little syringe on wheels--wouldn't put out a box of matches if the wind was blowin'--and so the Old Gentleman kep' about a hundred buckets hung in the mills. Joe Brady was fire chief--he worked in the freight house. But the fire come on a Sunday and Joe 'd been loadin' up ever since six o'clock Saturday night, and when him and the boys come up with their squirt-gun they'd forgot the key to the fire-plug, and they hadn't brung hose enough to use the river. Buck Patterson--he was superintendent--was passin' out buckets, and he come out to see what was the matter, and you'd ought to a-heard him talk to Joe. Buck was pretty profane, sometimes, and he just busted out that night. I guess he'd never had much use for Joe, only he hadn't had a chance to tell him about it before. 'Why, you dam gutter-sponge of a patty de foy graw,' says he--I'm only tellin' you what he said; I was standin' right by and heard the whole thing--he called him a patty de foy graw!--'You wart,' he says, 'you liver-eyed, kettle-bellied soak, you ain't fit to polish toastin'-forks in hell!' He never talked just like nobody else, Buck didn't. All this while Joe was hollerin' to little Murphy to run for the key and Murphy was hollerin' back, 'You go to the devil, your father, and get it yourself,' and sayin' it over and over, he was so excited; when Buck just took Joe by the collar and give him a jolt with his knee, and told him to shut up and get that key, and Joe tun off meek as an infant in arms.” “What was the loss that night?” asked Crosman. “About twenty thousand--eighty per cent, insured. The Old Gentleman didn't have a very comf'terble time himself. He'd been ridin' around on his buckboard tellin' the boys what to do. He started downtown after more buckets, and just as he got out to the bridge I looked up and see him all a-blazin' out behind. He didn't even know it yet. Must ha' been a spark lit on his coat-tails. I hollered at him, but he was whippin' up the mare, and I had to chase him across the bridge. He begun to feel funny then, and when he pulled up I grabbed his arm and jerked the reins out of his hand, and hauled him off the seat and rolled down the bank with him into the river. I guess there ain't much doubt I saved his life------ Hello, they're stopping work down there!” This last exclamation was caused by the Manager starting abruptly for the wharf. Crosman and the Inspector followed. The work was not wholly stopped, but a little group of labourers was gathered about a stick of timber watching George, who was measuring it with his scale. Some of the other workmen were standing and sitting nearby, laughing and bantering, while a few made a small pretense of work. When Halloran came on the scene George looked up with a dogged expression. “What's this?” Halloran asked the gang-boss. “We was going a little too fast for the kid.”