from his begrimed face with his arm. I clutched him.

"Manouvrier!"

A smile of recognition shone for an instant and vanished as I added,

"Come to your own house! Come, you can't save it here."

He turned a quick, wild look at the fire, seized me by the arm and with a
gaze of deepest gratitude, asked:

"You tryin' save her?"

"I'll do anything I can."

"Oh, dass right!" His face was full of mingled joy and pain. "You go
yondeh--mek yo' possible!" We were hurrying to the street--"Oh, yass, faw
God's sake go, mek yo' possible!"

"But, Manouvrier, you must come too! Where's your wife? The chief danger
to your house isn't here, it's where the fire's between it and the wind!"

His answer was a look of anguish. "Good God! my fran'. We come yondeh so
quick we can! But--foudre tonnerre!--look that house here fill' with
ba-bee'! What we goin' do? Those Sister' can't climb on roof with bocket'
wateh. You see I got half-dozen boy' up yondeh; if I go 'way they dis-cend
and run off at the fire, spark' fall on roof an'--" his thumb flew out.

"Sparks! Heavens! Manouvrier, your house is in the path of the _flames!_"