Arches of flame, myriads of falling
sparks, hundreds of fleeing half-clad men, women and children, the
hissing of the engines in their puny attempts to fight the monster, and
ever and anon the dull roar of the falling walls, made a scene, as grand
and weird as it was desolate and awful. In less than two hours time
fifty-two squares had been laid waste, leaving a trail of smoldering
black ashes. That the whole city did not go is due to a providential
switch of the wind that blew the flames back on their own tracks.
Of the fifteen operators in the day force, twelve had been burned out,
and the next morning, at eight o'clock, when all had reported for duty,
they were as sorry a looking lot of men as ever assembled.
"Some in rags, some in jags, and one in velvet gown." "Count" Finnegan
had on a frilled shirt, a pair of trousers three sizes too small for
him, and his manly form was wrapped in a flowing robe of black velvet,
picked up by him in his mad flight.
It was many a day before the effects of this direful calamity were
entirely obliterated.
CHAPTER VIII
SENDING A MESSAGE PERFORCE--RECOGNIZING AN OLD FRIEND BY HIS STUFF
Some time after this I was in Fort Worth copying night reports at eighty
dollars per month.
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