water, and this expedient was a hopeless one. The iron mains which
carried the precious fluid under the city streets were broken or injured
so that no quenching streams were to be had. In some cases the engine
houses had been so damaged that the fire-fighting apparatus could not be
taken out, though even if it had it would have been useless. A sweeping
conflagration and not an ounce of water to throw upon it! The situation
of the people was a maddening one. They were forced helplessly and
hopelessly to gaze upon the destruction of their all, and it is no
marvel if many of them grew frantic and lost their reason at the sight.
Thousands gathered and looked on in blank and pitiful misery, their
strong hands, their iron wills of no avail, while the red-lipped fire
devoured the hopes of their lives.

In a dozen, a hundred, places the flames shot up redly. Huge, strong
buildings which the earthquake had spared fell an unresisting prey
to the flames. The great, iron-bound, towering Spreckles building,
a steeple-like structure, of eighteen stories in height, the tallest
skyscraper in the city, had resisted the earthquake and remained proudly
erect. But now the flames gathered round and assailed it. From both
sides came their attack. A broad district near by, containing many large
hotels and lodging houses, was being fiercely burnt out, and soon the
windows of the lofty building cracked and splintered, the flames shot
triumphantly within, and almost in an instant the vast interior was a
seething furnace, the wild flames rushing and leaping within until only
the blackened walls remained.


THE RESISTLESS MARCH OF THE FLAMES.