Herl looked where he pointed and saw the crowd milling about the door
of a shop. A man and a woman stood in the doorway tossing fur coats out
into the mob. Here and there a runner paused, grabbed up a coat where
it fell on or near a pedestrian, and ran on.
Crawford climbed over the bumpers of a couple of cars and got to the
sidewalk. Herl followed and joined him at the shop doorway in time to
hear the Commissioner say, "See here, my man, those coats are not yours
to give away. You're an Eyefer and you have no business at all here.
Now get on home."
He grabbed the man's elbow to start him on his way ... and recognized
him. "Good grief! Bill Haulwell!"
The woman in the doorway was Agnes. She laughed boisterously. "Get
along home yourself, old man. We want coats so we take coats. Here,
have one."
She threw a heavy fur coat over Crawford's head and as he tried to
fight clear of its folds, Bill held it down like a bag and hoisted the
small man along toward the edge of the crowd.
Herl caught him as he fell and pulled off the coat. Crawford threw it
angrily on the ground. "You can't get away with this," he shouted.
"The police will be here in a minute."
This time it was Bill who laughed. "They're all too busy at the Civil
Building to bother with coats." Agnes threw out a couple more coats
which had been handed to her by somebody within the shop.
"Besides, they already have coats," she added.
"We'd better get out of this," Herl told Crawford, starting back across
the cars.
"Yes," agreed the latter as he clambered up and over. "Better see
what's happening downtown. Sounds drastic."
The pair ran on faster now. From ahead grew a trembling roar which
swelled to a steady gentle thundering above which the alarm yapped and
blatted. A ruddy glow silhouetted the bodies of the cars they were
passing, and the center of the street was filling with runners. A few
hundred yards brought them to where Herl could see the shape of the
Civil Building and recognize the glow as fire spurting from the windows
of the two top storeys.
They stopped on the outskirts of an immense crowd circling the
building. Great streams of water shot aloft from immense hoses; but
the streams wobbled and wavered in a hundred directions as the nozzles
shifted everywhere but at the building itself. Herl and Crawford were
drenched twice before they could get close enough to see that the hoses
were being battled for by gangs of Eyefers against the sturdy teams of
firemen. The shouting and roar of the fire were so deafening that Herl
and the Commissioner were well into the crowd before the words were
comprehensible.
"Let 'em burn! Let the records burn! Let 'em burn up!"
"The records!" Crawford gave out a kind of spluttering screech that
made Herl turn in astonishment. "The records! My God! There won't be
any laws ... any Eyefers ... any _civilization_ if we lose the records!"
Herl thought the little man was going to faint, he trembled so
violently. Then, suddenly, Crawford took a great gulping breath,
wrenched himself from Herl's supporting grasp and, pushing his way
through the massed bodies, made for the cordon keeping the onlookers
out of the danger zone. Herl pressed after him but reached the front
line only in time to see Crawford jumping sidewise fifty feet ahead to
elude a fireman and dashing for the gaping mouth of the vehicle tunnel
through the building. Herl followed on the double, pointing ahead at
the disappearing figure of the Commissioner without trying to yell out
his destination to the hindering firemen.
A greater shout went up as a piece of the stone cornice fell from the
top of the building to the pavement below with the crash of nearby
blasting. Severed sections of hose blatted forth powerful torrents that
swept firemen and mob along the street into a line of cars. Herl dodged
among writhing pythons of hose toward the tunnel. Another surging shout
heralded another cataclysmic deed of fire; and Herl looked up to see
a piece of wall about twenty feet high falling slowly away from the
building above him.
He closed his eyes and dashed forward. He felt the tremendous jar of
the smashing stone force him to his knees, but no sound ... in fact all
sound had faded to utter stillness.
"Struck deaf," he thought wonderingly and opened his eyes to find
himself kneeling before the table in the silence of the _Krylla_. The
bright warmth of Abigail shone before him where she sat several inches
above the table top.
"Abigail," he shouted, scrambling to his feet. His voice rang through
the small cabin, and he lowered it to suit his surroundings. "Why did
you bring me here?"
"You were in danger," she replied pleasantly.
"So is Crawford. I've got to help him. Take me back!" he commanded.
"He's all right. No one will be hurt tonight who doesn't want to be
hurt." Her voice was sweetly matter of fact.
"I don't believe it. The Eyefers have run wild! Crawford ran right into
the building. He'll be killed. Take me back!" He pounded the table with
his fist.