Instantly there came an
answering crackle, and exasperated fire-fighters rushed to meet the
latest sortie of their enemy. Once more three men, keg laden, made their
way through smoke and showering brands. Again the deafening report
reverberated and the crowd fell back, alarmed.
Someone grasped Benito's arm and shook it violently. He turned and
looked into the feverishly questioning eyes of Adrian Stanley.
"I've just returned," the other panted. "Tell me, is all well--with
Inez? The women?"
"Don't know," said Benito, half bewildered. The woman's wail for a lost
child leaped terrifyingly into his recollection. His hand went up as if
to ward off something. "Don't know," he repeated. "Wasn't home
when--fire started."
It came to him weirdly that he was talking like a drunken man; that
Adrian eyed him with a sharp disfavor. "Where the devil were you, then?"
"At the ranch," he answered. Suddenly he laughed. It all seemed very
funny. He had meant to give his wife a Christmas present; later he had
ridden madly to her rescue, yet here he was passing buckets in a fire
brigade. And Adrian, regarding him with suspicion, accusing him silently
with his eyes.
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