there came another shout:

"Let us in, or we'll burn the place down over your head!"

Burn it? Burn what? There was nothing easily combustible but the
thatch on the roof; and that had been well soaked by the heavy
rain which had now fallen incessantly for more than six hours.
Burn the place over my head? How?

While I was still casting about wildly in my mind to discover
what possible danger there could be of fire, one of the heavy
stones placed on the thatch to keep it from being torn up by high
winds came thundering down the chimney. It scattered the live
embers on the hearth all over the room. A richly-furnished place,
with knickknacks and fine muslin about it, would have been set on
fire immediately. Even our bare floor and rough furniture gave
out a smell of burning at the first shower of embers which the
first stone scattered.

For an instant I stood quite horror-struck before this new proof
of the devilish ingenuity of the villains outside. But the
dreadful danger I was now in recalled me to my senses
immediately. There was a large canful of water in my bedroom, and
I ran in at once to fetch it. Before I could get back to the
kitchen a second stone had been thrown down the chimney, and the
floor was smoldering in several places.

I had wit enough to let the smoldering go on for a moment or two
more, and to pour the whole of my canful of water over the fire
before the third stone came down the chimney. The live embers on