All through the work of fire-fighting Greaser Jose was everywhere about the house, flinging buckets of water through the windows into the red furnace within; his wife and the two children stood stupidly, staring, dumb.

But in the end, when the fire was towering above the roof of the house, roaring and crackling, the Mexican suddenly raised a long arm and called to the bucket line, "It is done.

Senors, I thank you." Then he had folded his arms and repeated in a monotone, over and over again: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo_!" His wife came to him, frantic, wailing, and threw her arms around his neck.

He merely repeated with heavy monotony: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo_!" The phrase clung in the mind of the girl; and she rose at last and went back to her bunk, repeating: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo! All is lost; all is lost_!" No tears were in her eyes; they were wide and solemn, looking up to the shadows of the ceiling, and so she went to sleep with the solemn Spanish phrase echoing through her whole being: "_Todo es perdo_!" She woke with the smell of frying bacon pungent in her nostrils..