Happily, it stood in a yard
of its own, so that none adjoined it, and though the fronts of the
two opposite "Dragon's Heads" had broken windows and torn doors, no
person within them had been more than stunned and bruised. But the
former "Dragon's Head" itself had become a mere pile of stones,
bricks, and timbers. The old couple in charge had happily been out,
and stood in dismay over the heap, which Harold and a few of the men
were trying to remove, in the dismal search for Mr. Yolland and the
boy he employed to assist him. The boy was found first, fearfully
burnt about the face and hands, but protected from being crushed by
the boards which had fallen slantwise over him. And under another
beam, which guarded his head, but rested on his leg, lay young
Yolland.
Harold's strength had raised the beam, and he was drawn out. He
revived as the night air blew on his face, looked up as Harold lifted
him, said, "I have it," and fainted the next moment. They had taken
him to his lodgings, where Dr. Kingston had set the broken leg and
bound the damaged rib, but could not yet pronounce on the other
injuries, and Harold had taken on himself the watch for the night.
The explanation that we all held by was, that the damage was caused
by an officious act of the assistant, who, perceiving that it was
growing dark, fired a match, and began to light the gas at the
critical moment of the experiment, by which the means of obtaining
the utmost heat at the smallest expense of fuel was to be attained.
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