A picture came back to him of a ship labouring in a storm; the huddling men on the deck; the mate on the bridge, shrieking his orders through a megaphone.

He cupped his hands at his mouth and began to bark orders.
They obeyed on the run.

Some rushed for the kitchen and secured buckets; two manned the big pump and started a great gush of water; in a moment a steady stream was being flung by the foremost men of the line against the smoking walls and even the ceiling of the dining-room.

So far it was the oil itself, which had made most of the flame and smoke, and now, although the big table was on fire, the main structure of the house was hardly touched.
They caught it in time and worked with a cheer, swinging the buckets from hand to hand, shouting as the flames fell little by little until the floor of the room was awash, the walls gave back clouds of steam, and the only fire was that which smouldered along the ruined table.

Even this went out, hissing, at last, and they came back with blackened, singed faces to Calamity and Drew.
The rancher had torn away the coat and shirt of the wounded man, and now, with much labour, was twisting a tight bandage around his chest.