The smoke at this corner was stifling, and Clark, a nimble fellow, having been handed a bucket of water, bathed Oak's face and sprinkled him generally, whilst Gabriel, now with a long beech-bough in one hand, in addition to his crook in the other, kept sweeping the stack and dislodging all fiery particles.
On the ground the groups of villagers were still occupied in doing all they could to keep down the conflagration, which was not much.
They were all tinged orange, and backed up by shadows of varying pattern.

Round the corner of the largest stack, out of the direct rays of the fire, stood a pony, bearing a young woman on its back.
By her side was another woman, on foot.

These two seemed to keep at a distance from the fire, that the horse might not become restive.
"He's a shepherd," said the woman on foot.

"Yes--he is.

See how his crook shines as he beats the rick with it.