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"Pass!" screamed the squire as it came up dripping. Ellinwood's

great arm swung forward to meet the arm of the man a yard away.

The bucket changed hands and went forward without losing a drop.

Up it went swiftly from one to another, to the eaves, to the two

men at the top.

Now the fire sent branches out from the burning wharf along the

low frames where some of the season's miserable catch was drying

in the open air after salting. The fish curled and blackened in

the fierce heat.

Only two men were not in the bucket brigade. They were Nailor and

Thomas, who stood watching the destruction of their whole

property. They knew the squire had done well in saving the

village rather than their own buildings. It was the tacit

understanding in Freekirk Head that a few should lose rather than

the many.