Stan Lynn Part 4

He led the way through the door before him, making a sudden rush past the blazing heap, and the other two followed, each lifting down a bucket of water from the dozen hanging in a row on the pegs where Uncle Jeff's foresight had had them placed ready for such an emergency. As soon as he had seized his pair of buckets he stepped back through the brightly illuminated door; and as Stan quickly followed him, the two stood together, the boy feeling the scorching glow of the flames upon his face.

"Let me do the throwing, Stan," said Uncle Jeff calmly, as he set one bucket on the floor. "Stand back, and look out for the choking steam."

Then, with a clever whirl of the bucket, he sent its contents in a curve, spreading as it were so much golden liquid metal over the flames, a good sprinkling striking the woodwork on both sides of the window; and in an instant the sharp hissing of the encounter between fire and water was accompanied by a change, the fire still blaring furiously, but a great cloud of steam being formed, the odour of which struck Stan as abominable.

"Bravo!" cried Uncle Jeff. "Smell the hydrogen, my lad?"

As he spoke he set down his empty bucket, took up the full one at his feet, and scattered its contents in the same way and with a similar effect to that which had preceded it.

"Now," he cried, "set down your two buckets, my lad; take back my empty ones, and bring two more.--Set yours down too, Oliver," he continued coolly, "and do as the boy does--unless you want to play fireman."

"No, no; go on," said Stan's father. "Splendid, my dear boy! Go on."

"Yes, I'll go on," said Uncle Jeff coolly; "only one mustn't waste a drop."

As he spoke he scattered the contents of both Stan's buckets, and then those of his brother, so deftly over the blazing woodwork that by the time the first six had been emptied the heart of Stan's father rose with relief, for the change was wonderful. Then, as the second six bucketfuls were being thrown, the first two right upward to the ceiling, whence they began to drip in a steady shower whose drops hissed and crackled where they fell, it became evident that very little further effort would be needed to master the flames. In fact, now that the twelve buckets were nearly all exhausted, Stan found himself able to throw out the empty ones to some of the men who had gathered outside, plenty of willing hands being ready to catch them; and under the directions given in English by a loud voice outside, the men--coolies, most of them--hurried down to the edge of the wharf where the river ran muddily, and a second dozen buckets nearly finished the task.

"St.i.tch in time saves nine--eh, Stan?" cried Uncle Jeff merrily; "and a tumblerful of water at the beginning of a fire is better than a hogshead at the end.--H'm! there's plenty of help now, Oliver. We're not ruined yet, old man."

"Thank heaven, no, Jeff!" said his brother. "I wish I had your coolness and nerve."

"And I wish I had your nous, old fellow," replied his brother quietly.

"But there! we won't have the place flooded. I'll scatter about a couple of dozen more buckets over the smoking and charred wood; and then, as the mob gathering out there must be thirsty, we will distribute a few strings of copper money among them to make up for the chance of plunder that they have missed."

Friendly voices by the score were now heard making inquiries; the help was plentiful, and in less than an hour clever carpenters were hammering away, replacing the broken and burned windows with a lattice-work of bamboo. Soon after a late-arriving party of the city guard were pursuing the marauders, while a certain number were posted about the offices and warehouse to protect the rich stores within from "friendly"

and unfriendly attack.

But there was no sleep for the Lynns that night, and daylight made such a display of the effects of the night's business that Stan's first disposition was to burst out laughing in his uncle's face.

"Eh? What is it? Why are you grinning at me, sir?" said the object of Stan's mirth.

"I couldn't help it, uncle," said the lad apologetically. "Go and have a wash, and just look at your face."

"Blackened a bit? Well, it does smart."

"Why, Jeff," cried Stan's father, "your eyebrows, eyelashes, and beard are completely burned away."

"What!" cried Uncle Jeff angrily. "My beautiful great beard? Oh! that comes of trying to save this wretched old house and store.--Why, you heartless young ruffian," he roared as he met his nephew's mirthful eyes, "you are laughing at my misfortune. Do you know what a loss like this means to me?"

"Yes, uncle," replied Stan: "waiting until it grows again."

Uncle Jeff's countenance was a study as he stood staring at his nephew, his forehead all in wrinkles, eyes screwed up, and lips compressed, till all at once the muscles relaxed, his eyes opened widely, and a frank, pleasant smile of satisfaction began to make him look genial and sunny.

"Why, of course!" he cried. "I was going to put it down as a dead loss.

I never thought of that, Stan. To be sure, it's only a bit of waiting for it to grow again. Here, I can't go out in this state. Call Sin the Wicked, Stan."

"Yes, uncle," was the reply, and Stan hurried out.

CHAPTER THREE.

"A BLOODTHIRSTY YOUNG RUFFIAN."

Stan had been long enough in the great port to know something of the habits of the people, and he was in nowise surprised to find that not one of the employees had put in an appearance that morning; nor yet that Pi Sin, the general man-of-all-work of the household, who slept in the house, was nowhere to be found, for the simple reason that he had dropped from one of the windows and made off at the first alarm.

The lad was balked, then, at the offset, and had to return to his uncle for instructions.

"Gone--eh?" said Uncle Jeff. "Of course he would go. It doesn't take much to scare one of his kind. You'll have to fetch the barber for me, Stan. Know where he lives?"

"No," said Stan.

"Keep along the wharf-side till you come to the big paG.o.da half and mile along the river, and then go down the narrow lane under the paG.o.da walls till you come to his place, just opposite the gate. You'll see his shop. Tell him to come at once."

"Can he speak English?"

"After a fas.h.i.+on; and half-a-dozen other languages too. Tell him he must come back with you. He'll say he can't leave home, but you say the one word 'Dollar' and he'll come at once."

"I understand, uncle," was the reply; and the boy started off, feeling as if all the previous night's experience had been a dream, and as if he were still only half-awake.

He was glad to escape from the dwelling over the offices, with their black, dismantled look, where all was charred wood, wet with the little deluge of water that had been poured thereon.

The lad sniffed two or three times involuntarily as he made his way out to pa.s.s through a crowd of staring idlers of all sorts and sizes, dressed in blue cotton jackets and trousers, save those whose costume half-way down was a pigtail only, the other half to the ground consisting of a pair of baggy, much-washed cotton trousers, tight at the ankles, and tucked into clumsy shoes with thick white soles. They were all staring vacantly at the damaged office and shattered windows; while the broken ladder, propped up in two pieces, was placed against the front of the house, and formed the greatest attraction of all, till Stan appeared, when about two hundred and fifty pairs of beady, piggish eyes were turned upon him, and there was a quiver of pigtails of all lengths, from a few inches to those of the finest growth, which tapped against the owners' heels as they walked.

"I suppose I shall get to know one face from another in time," thought Stan as the crowd made way for him, "but at present they all seem to be alike. My word! I do feel glad to get out. The place smelt like a school bonfire put out for fear of risk, or as the kitchen did when the cook upset part of the soup into the fire and made the rest taste just the same as this smells.--Oh, do get out of the way, some of you!" he said aloud impatiently. "Can't you see that I'm in a hurry?"

"You wantee Sin?" said a high-pitched voice close behind; and Stan stopped short to face a particularly meek-looking, full-moon-countenanced Chinaman in the cleanest of cotton clothes, and without a wrinkle of trouble in his placid face.

"Wantee you? Yes," said Stan angrily, for wakefulness, over-exertion, and hunger combined had put his nerves in a state of compound irritation. The sight of the man, too, brought up ideas of breakfast, as well as bitter annoyance against him for his desertion of them in their time of peril. "Why did you run away last night?"

"Lun away? Sin no lun away. Dlop down flat and clawl away so lobbee man not see."

"Well, it's all the same," cried Stan. "Oh, you were a coward to desert us like that!"

The Chinaman smiled feebly, and there was a look of apology in his eyes as he said meekly:

"Plentee bad man makee Sin all aflaid. One man enough one man fight.

One man can'tee fight gleat many. Only one Sin takee big knife and chop off head."

"But you went away instead," growled Stan sourly. "Look here, sir, I've a good mind to kick you."

"What good? Stan-lee kick Sin, Sin go 'way and cly. No good cookee bleakfast."

"Then I won't kick you," said the boy, who felt mollified by the suggestion of hot tea and cake contained in the man's speech. "Here!

run off and fetch the barber. Bring here."

"No come. Shavee many man."

"You say 'Dollar,' and bring him along."