"Well, then let go." Anthony shook the Panamannikin loose, then
ran forward across the street until he brought up at the end of
the slack and felt the hose behind him writhe and swell as Allan
released his hold. The next instant the negro was at his side, and
the two found themselves half blistered by the heat that rolled
out upon them. But the newly ignited roof was within range, and
the stream they played upon it made the shingles fly.
"Oh, Lard!" Allan was crying. "Oh, Lard! I shall h'expire."
"Pull down your hat and shield your face."
The fireman they had despoiled began to drag at the hose from a
safe distance; but when Kirk made as if to turn the nozzle upon
him he scampered away amid the jeers of the crowd. A few moments
later, the American felt a hand upon his arm and saw an angry
policeman who was evidently ordering him back. Behind him stood
the excited nozzleman with two companions.
"He says you should return the 'ose where you found it," Allan
translated.
"Leave us alone," Kirk replied. "You fellows help the others;
we'll attend to this." More rapid words and gesticulations
followed, in the midst of which a dapper young man in a uniform
somewhat more impressive than the others dashed up, flung himself
upon Anthony and endeavored to wrench the hose from his hands.
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