shot high into the air, and were borne by the wind right down on to the storehouse. The attaché, and those that were with him, had to get down from the roof on the other side as best they might.
A step was heard running up the stairs and through the passage.
"Father! father!" It was Morten, who dashed in breathless and dripping. "Father, we must have some powder; the storehouse must be blown up!"
"Nonsense!" answered the Consul, drily. "Why, it is right under the very stern of the ship."
"Well, I don't know." answered Morten, "but something must be done. I don't see much good in those old fire-engines."
The young Consul drew himself up; he seemed to hear an echo of all the disagreements there had been between them. It was the old story, the new against the old, and he answered shortly and coldly—
"I am still the head of the firm. Go back and do your duty, as I directed."
Morten turned and left the room with an air of defiance. The idea of using powder had taken his fancy, although it was not his own. An engineer had been standing behind Morten with his hands in his pockets, after the manner of engineers, and had said, as engineers do say, "If I had my way, I'm blest if I wouldn't do different to this."
"What would you do?" asked Morten.
"Powder!" answered the engineer, curtly, as engineers have a habit of answering.
It was hard for Morten to give up his powder,
