She sat down, crosslegged, before the fire, and stirred the embers, and strove to think.
But she was not equipped for thinking, all her life had been merely action, action, action, and now, as she strove to build out some logical sequence and find her destiny in it, she failed miserably, and fell back upon herself.

She was one of those single-minded people who give themselves up to emotion rarely, but when they do their whole body, their whole soul burns in the flame.
Into her mind came a phrase she had heard in her childhood.

On the outskirts of Eldara there was a little shack owned by a Mexican--Jose, he was called, and nothing else, "Greaser" Jose.

One night an alarm of fire was given in Eldara, and the whole populace turned out to enjoy the sight; it was a festival occasion, in a way.

It was the house of Greaser Jose.
The cowpunchers manned a bucket line, but the source of water was far away, the line too long, and the flames gained faster than they could be quenched.