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VI. The Fair—The Journey—The Fire

           Oh,MarkClark—come!Andyou,BillySmallbury—andyou,MaryannMoney—andyou,JanCoggan,andMatthewthere!"Otherfiguresnowappearedbehindthisshoutingmanandamongthesmoke,andGabrielfoundthat,farfrombeingalonehewasinagreatcompany—whoseshadowsdancedmerrilyupanddown,timedbythejiggingoftheflames,andnotatallbytheirowners’movements.Theassemblage—belongingtothatclassofsocietywhichcastsitsthoughtsintotheformoffeeling,anditsfeelingsintotheformofcommotion—settoworkwitharemarkableconfusionofpurpose.

           "Stopthedraughtunderthewheat-rick!"criedGabrieltothosenearesttohim.Thecornstoodonstonestaddles,andbetweenthese,tonguesofyellowhuefromtheburningstrawlickedanddartedplayfully.Ifthefireoncegotunderthisstack,allwouldbelost.

           "Getatarpaulin—quick!"saidGabriel.

           Arick-clothwasbrought,andtheyhungitlikeacurtainacrossthechannel.Theflamesimmediatelyceasedtogounderthebottomofthecorn-stack,andstoodupvertical.

           "Standherewithabucketofwaterandkeeptheclothwet."saidGabrielagain.

           Theflames,nowdrivenupwards,begantoattacktheanglesofthehugeroofcoveringthewheat-stack.

           "Aladder,"criedGabriel.

           "Theladderwasagainstthestraw-rickandisburnttoacinder,"saidaspectre-likeforminthesmoke.

           Oakseizedthecutendsofthesheaves,asifheweregoingtoengageintheoperationof"reed-drawing,"anddigginginhisfeet,andoccasionallystickinginthestemofhissheep-crook,heclamberedupthebeetlingface.

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