Westward Ho!

The dismal cry of Fire! from a single hoarse voice at once conveyed to his mind the natural solution of the threatening omen. In an instant he was in the grass-grown street which divided the village, and at the same moment saw the flames breaking out from the roof of Colonel Dangerfield’s mansion, which, being built of pinewood, burnt almost with the rapidity of tinder. Not a soul was stirring as yet but himself and the person who had given the alarm, and from the total silence within, it was evident that none of the family were as yet awakened. Rainsford’s first impulse was to knock violently at the door and call aloud. But it would seem that we miserable short-sighted mortals never sleep so sound as when the thief is abroad or the house on fire.