nor ordinary smoke was perceptible.  Apollonius heard his associates on the steps.  He called to them that he was there.  Just at that moment a blue light flashed through all the tower-windows followed immediately by a tremendous crash of thunder.  Apollonius stood for an instant, stunned.  If he had not unconsciously caught hold of a beam, he would have fallen to the ground from the shock.  A thick fume of sulphur took his breath away.  He sprang to the nearest window to obtain fresh air.  The workmen farther from where it had struck had not been stunned, but stood motionless with fright on the topmost flight of steps.  “Come!” cried Apollonius.  “Quick! the water!  The sprinkler!  It must have struck on this side—­that’s where the pressure and the smell of sulphur came from.  Quick, water and the sprinkler at the door!” The master-carpenter, standing on the ladder steps, called, coughing, “But the smoke!” “Quick!” replied Apollonius, “the door will give more air than we want.”  The mason and the chimney-sweep followed the carpenter, who carried the hose with the sprinkler, as quickly as he could, up the ladder steps.  The others brought buckets of cold water, the journeyman a pail of hot water to pour over the cold to prevent its freezing.

At such moments he who remains calm inspires confidence; to the self-possessed man of action others defer without question.  The wooden passage-way to the door was narrow, but through Apollonius’ intelligent directions room was immediately found for all.  Next to Apollonius stood the carpenter, then the sprinkler, then the mason.  The sprinkler was so turned that the two men had the levers before them.  Two strong men could work it.  Behind the mason stood the journeyman who was to pour hot water on the cold as often as was necessary.  Others performed the journeyman’s previous duty; they melted snow and ice and kept the water thus obtained in the watchman’s warm room so that it should not freeze again.  Still others were ready to serve as carriers and formed a sort of double line between roof and watchman’s room.  While Apollonius was explaining to the carpenter and mason, in rapid words and signs, his plan of action which they then carried into effect, he had taken hold of the roof-ladder with his right hand and was reaching out with his left toward the bolt of the door.  The workmen were all full of hope, but when the storm whistled in through the opened door, tore the carpenter’s cap from his head, blew masses of fine snow against the beams, howled, rattled, and blustered against the ridge of the roof, while flash after flash of lightning broke through the dark opening, the bravest among them wanted to withdraw his hand from the futile work.  Apollonius had to stand with his back to the door to get his breath.  Then gripping the lath-work above the door, with both hands, he bent his head back in order to get a look at the roof from the outside.  “It can still be saved,” he cried with an effort so that he could