It was the sugar planter from the mill and with him his foreman.
"We've been doing our best," said Medlicot, "but we've been terribly afraid that the fire would slip away from us." "It's the only thing," said Harry, too much excited at the moment to ask questions as to the cause of Medlicot's presence so far from his home at that time of the evening.

"It's getting round us, I'm afraid, all the same." "I don't know but it is.

It's almost impossible to distinguish.

How hot the fire makes it!" "Hot, indeed!" said Harry.

"It's killing work for men, and then all for no good! To think that men, creatures that call themselves men, should do such a thing as this! It breaks one's heart." He had paused as he spoke, leaning on the great battered bough which he held, but in an instant was at work with it again.