He found the red cotton (or rather silk) by the simple process of turning out the contents of Ethel's work-box on to her bedroom floor and rummaging among them till he found it. Then conscientiously he bundled everything back and was much aggrieved by Ethel's reproaches later in the day.

'Well, I put 'em back, din' I?' he said. 'Well, they looked all right to me . . . I put 'em back. Well, I'd gotter have that red cotton . . . No, I can't tell you why . . . It's somethin' to do with winnin' the war . . . No, I can't tell you what it is . . . The Gov'ment says we mustn't go talkin' about things we're doin' to win the war. You don't know where ole Hitler is, listenin'.'

He took the reel of red silk to the old barn and also a needle that he had thoughtfully purloined at the same time.

'It'll be quite easy,' he said. 'You jus' sew A.F.S. on, an' I bet it'll look same as theirs.'

A few moments later he doubtfully surveyed the spidery network of red threads that he had made on his coat.

'Well, anyway,' he said, 'you can see it's meant to be A.F.S. if you look close enough. It's a jolly good A and the F's not bad, an' I bet the S doesn't matter so much. Well, stands to reason you can't do a letter like S with an ordin'ry needle. I bet they have special ones.'

With frowning concentration each of the others outlined spidery hieroglyphics on his coat. They, too, inspected the finished results doubtfully results more suggestive of laundry marks gone mad than a badge of Government service.

'They're not bad,' said William. 'They're red, anyway, an' it doesn't matter what the 'zact letters are. Well, we'll be with the real ones, so people'll know it's meant to be A.F.S.'

Wis.h.i.+ng to give an impression of good discipline, he marched his band through the main street of Hadley the next morning and then boldly in through the garage gates. It happened that the A.F.S. was drawn up for parade. They stood stiffly in a row, their backs to the gate, waiting for the Section Officer to appear through the door of what had once been the motor sale-room.

William marched his band up to the end of the line, where they took their places, standing straight to attention. At that moment the Section Officer appeared at the doorway. His eyes swept down the ranks of the men to rest finally upon the Outlaws . . . His face darkened. He was a youthful platinum blond, with an exaggerated idea of his own importance. He couldn't tolerate anything that made him appear ridiculous, and he considered that the presence of the Outlaws at his firemen parade made him appear ridiculous.

WILLIAM HAD MARCHED HIS BAND UP TO THE END OF THE LINE, WHERE THEY TOOK THEIR PLACES, STANDING STRAIGHT TO ATTENTION.

He bore down on them furiously.

'Get out of this at once!' he thundered. 'How dare you come in here! Don't you know that you're trespa.s.sing?'

'Yes, but-' began William.

'GET OUT OF THIS AT ONCE!' THUNDERED THE SECTION OFFICER. 'HOW DARE YOU COME IN HERE! DON'T YOU KNOW THAT YOU'RE TRESPa.s.sING?'

The Section Officer was large and muscular and he looked like business.

'Al' right,' muttered William hastily, and withdrew with his Outlaws in as good order as possible.

Outside he turned to them.

'Well, I like that!' he said indignantly. 'I jolly well like that. I bet he's no right to go turnin' people out of the A.F.S. I bet he'd jolly well get into trouble if the King knew that he was goin' about turnin' people out of the A.F.S. I've a good mind to write and tell him-'

'When we've took all that trouble over our badges, too,' said Ginger gloomily, looking down at the vague and spidery red threads that adorned his coat.

'Let's wait till he's done an' then go in again,' suggested Henry.

William shook his head. Despite his youth he was not without judgement and had spent many years of his short life gauging how far one could go with grown-ups of various types. He judged quite rightly that, for the present at any rate, it wasn't safe to go any further with that particular young man.

'No, let's go home,' he said. 'I'm sick of the rotten old A.F.S. Let's go'n' play Red Indians-'

They went home and played Red Indians, but somehow all the glamour had faded from the game. None of them could put any conviction into it. It wasn't real any longer. Only the A.F.S. was real.

'Tell you what,' said William finally. 'We can go'n' watch 'em same as we used to . . . We can do that, at any rate. He can't stop us goin' to watch 'em same as we used to . . . An' we'll keep our badges. He can't stop us havin' badges . . . They might all fall ill sudden or get burnt up in a fire, an' then I bet they'd be jolly glad to have us.'

They went down to Hadley the next morning and took up their old position outside the A.F.S. station, their noses glued as usual to the bars of the gate. But evidently not even that was to be allowed them. Section Officer Perkins espied them, recognised them, and bore down on them, his face flushed with the memory of yesterday's affront to his dignity and with secret apprehension of another.

'Clear off at once, you boys!' he said. 'I won't have you hanging about like this. If I find you here again, I'll hand you over to the police.'

Reluctantly, the Outlaws drifted away.

'Well,' said William with rising indignation. 'I like that. I jolly well like that. The street's not his, is it? The whole place isn't his, is it? Who does he think he is? Lord Mayor of London or Hitler or what? Let's go back there. Gos.h.!.+ He can't stop people lookin' at him, can he? He'll have to make himself invisible if he's goin' to stop people lookin' at him. Crumbs! That's a new lor, that is, that people aren't allowed to look at people . . . I bet there'll be a jolly lot of accidents,' he went on sarcastically, 'with people runnin' into each other an' suchlike now people aren't allowed to look at each other . . . Corks! That's a jolly funny lor, that is!'

'Let's go back there, then,' said Ginger.

But William was reluctant to go back. It wasn't a question of the law. Grown-ups, as William had learnt by bitter experience, were a law to themselves. William was a brave boy, but not one to court disaster unnecessarily.

''S no good,' he said gloomily. 'He'd only come an' make us go away again. I've met people like him before. Tyrunts same as the ones in hist'ry. Ole Stinks at school's one. Well, come to that, all schoolmasters are. They're all tyrunts, same as the ones in hist'ry. An' this ole Section Officer's another. I shouldn't be surprised if he's a schoolmaster in disguise. You can't mistake 'em, but well, I'm not goin' back there. I 'spect he wishes we would. I 'spect he'd jolly well like us to, but I'm not goin' to . . . Tell you what . . .' A gleam of inspiration flashed into his face. 'Tell you what. We'll have one of our own. Well, he can't stop us doin' that, can he? He can stop us joinin' his, but he can't stop us havin' one of our own. We'll have a sep'rate branch, an' I bet we put out more fires than what his does.'

'It'll be a bit difficult, won't it?' said Ginger thoughtfully.

'Course it won't,' said William stoutly.

'We've not got a trailer nor a hose-pipe nor anythin',' said Douglas.

'Corks!' groaned William. 'You can't do anythin' but make objections. I never saw anythin' like you. We c'n get a wheelbarrow can't we? an' a hose from the garden an' we've got our badges an' that's all we need. We'll do all the same sort of things they do, an' we'll know when there's a fire 'cause we'll see them goin' to it, an' we can go along an' help, an' I bet we can put out fires as well as what they can or a jolly sight better. You only need water for puttin' out fires an' water's cheap enough, isn't it? An' there's no lor to stop anyone what wants to puttin' out a fire, is there?'

His eloquence was, as ever, convincing, and the Outlaws gradually found themselves becoming convinced.

'We've gotter have a place to be an A.F.S. in,' objected Henry feebly, 'an' the ole barn's too far away. We sh'u'n't know what they were doin'.'

'Course we can't use the ole barn,' said William. 'It's miles away. We've gotter stay joined to the A.F.S. here. We're part of the A.F.S. here, whether ole Monkey-face wants us to be or not. I bet he'll be jolly glad of us before we've finished.'

'Yes, but what about a place?' persisted Henry.

'There's that bit of empty ground nex' the garage,' said William. 'That'll do for us, all right.'

There was, indeed, a small plot of waste ground next the garage and on this the Outlaws took up their position the next morning. They had a wheelbarrow in which was a bucket of water, a length of hose and a garden syringe that Henry had 'borrowed' from the tool shed.

It was of an up-to-date kind and had a little contraption at the end of a length of tubing that you dropped into the bucket of water and that enabled you to spray out the whole of its contents without dipping the nozzle into the water. The gardener, the apple of whose eye it was, had been called up recently, and Henry was hoping for the best.

'I'll get into an awful row, though, if my father finds out,' he said.

'Well, goodness!' said William, indignantly. 'You'd think that winnin' the war came before squirtin' a few roses an' suchlike, wouldn't you? Well, it seems a bit more important to me, anyway. Funny thing to think squirtin' a few roses more important than winnin' the war. I bet your father could get put in prison for thinkin' that.'

'Oh, well,' said Henry mildly, 'he's jolly busy jus' now so p'raps it'll be all right. What'll we do first?'

'We'll see what they're doin' an' do that,' said William. 'Go'n' see what they're doin', Ginger.'

Ginger went to peep through the gates of the garage.

'They're doin' drill,' he said when he returned. 'Ole Monkey-face is drillin' 'em.'

'All right,' said William. 'We'll drill too.'

For the rest of the morning, William's band of A.F.S. followed the procedure of the mother branch next door. Ginger was sent round at frequent intervals to report any change in the programme.

'They're cleanin' the trailers now.'

And at once the Outlaws set to work upon the wheelbarrow, turning it upside down and dusting it with handkerchiefs already so grubby from various other activities that a little dirt more or less made no difference.

'They're squirtin' their hose now.'

And at once the Outlaws took down the bucket of water and set to work with the garden syringe. Fortunately it was only a short walk out of the town to refill the bucket at a convenient roadside ditch.

Pa.s.sers-by looked with amus.e.m.e.nt at the four boys busily intent on imitating their neighbours, but the Outlaws were too much occupied to have any time to spare for pa.s.sers-by . . . If Section Officer Perkins knew of this caricature of his dignified proceedings taking place on the other side of the garage wall, he gave no signs of it. His face still wore its expression of portentous self-importance.

At the end of the day William was well satisfied with the progress made by his band.

'We've done all the things they've done,' he said, 'An' we've done 'em jus' as well or a jolly sight better. We'll come again tomorrow, an' I bet we'll soon be beatin' 'em hollow.'

Their ardour was unabated next morning, and they took up their position on the piece of waste ground.

'P'raps they'll be doin' somethin' a bit different today,' said William hopefully.

Ginger, sent to reconnoitre, brought news that they were preparing to fix trailers on to the cars.

'They're goin' out somewhere,' he said. 'I bet they're goin' up to Lengham ponds.'

'All right,' said William, in his most business-like manner, 'we'll go there, too. Get everything ready quick.'

In a few moments the A.F.S. cars came out of the garage, occupied by Section Officer Perkins and his band, the trailers attached.

At once William and his company emerged from the piece of waste land, wheeling the wheelbarrow, complete with bucket of water, length of hose and syringe. Section Officer Perkins turned to glare at them, then drove on furiously.

'Well, of course,' said William as the cars vanished into the distance, 'we can't keep up with them. We're not tryin' to keep up with them. But I bet they're goin' to Lengham ponds. We'll go there anyway an' see.'

They trundled their way through the town, spilling a good deal of water and rousing much amus.e.m.e.nt among the onlookers.

'Bet they're at Lengham ponds,' William kept saying.

And there, sure enough, they were. They were putting one end of a hose into the pond and directing water from the other end at various spots indicated by Section Officer Perkins. As the Outlaws appeared, they were just beginning to pack up the trailers to return home.

The Outlaws trundled their barrow down to the pond, took out their syringe, and, under William's direction, squirted a thin stream of water at the A.F.S.'s latest target, a tall, thin birch tree on the edge of the pond. It was, perhaps, unfortunate that Section Officer Perkins happened to be pa.s.sing behind the birch tree.

The thin stream of water hit him full in the eye as he turned round . . . He strode towards the Outlaws, his face white with anger, and William, realising the inadequacy of his forces to deal with the situation, led a hasty retreat into the surrounding wood.

'He's jealous, that's what he is,' he said, as, having watched the departure of the rival band, he returned to the wheelbarrow, still carrying the precious syringe. 'He's jealous 'cause we're as good as what his lot are.'

'He was mad 'cause that water hit him in the eye,' said Ginger, putting the facts of the case more simply.

'Well, goodness me!' said William. 'Fancy a fireman mindin' a bit of water in his eye. Corks! A fireman's gotter get used to bein' soaked all over. Jus' shows what a rotten fireman he is,' he ended with satisfaction. 'I knew he was a rotten fireman soon as I saw him. Anyone'd be a rotten fireman with hair that colour. Stands to reason.'

The routine of drilling and cleaning the wheelbarrow soon began to pall, and William's plans of emulating the canteen by making a fire on the piece of waste land and cooking a mixture of cold sausage and roly-poly pudding (purloined from the larder) in an old saucepan (purloined from the dustbin) was nipped in the bud by a pa.s.sing policeman.

To make matters worse, Section Officer Perkins developed a new technique. He came and watched the Outlaws with a sneer of superior amus.e.m.e.nt. He brought his friends to sneer at them. He once deliberately directed the hose over the wall of the garage so that William was soaked from head to foot. Fortunately, William's mother was out when he reached home, and his vague explanation, given on her return, of having 'got into a bit of water' was accepted with the inevitable, 'William, you are dreadful! What will you do next?'

'What we've gotter do,' said William, addressing his band the following morning, 'is to find a fire 'fore they do, an' put it out. That'll show 'em, all right. They'll treat us a bit diff'rent after that. Jolly snooks for them, comin' along after we've put the fire out. Come on. Let's go an' have a look for a fire.'

Refilling the bucket at the ditch, testing the syringe to make sure that it was in working order, giving the wheelbarrow a final dust over with their handkerchiefs, the Outlaw A.F.S. sallied forth in search of a fire.

They went through the main streets of Hadley inspecting each house and shop carefully, without result.

'Gos.h.!.+' said William at last, irritably. 'You'd think with all these people there'd be a fire somewhere. To see 'em throwin' down matches an' cigarette ends all over the place you'd think there'd be no end of fires. Can't think what happens to 'em all.'

They abandoned the main streets at last and began to roam the smaller back streets, still inspecting each house carefully for signs of a conflagration.

'Wouldn't do 'em any harm to let us have a little one,' he muttered pathetically. 'Mean, I call it.'

'Well, they don't want fires,' Ginger reminded him mildly.

'No, but well, you wouldn't think a little one'd do 'em any harm. I mean, when you read of all the fires there are in the newspapers it seems sort of mean of 'em to start bein' careful just when we're lookin' for one.'

'S'pose we couldn't start one ourselves,' suggested Douglas.

William shook his head.

'No,' he said reluctantly. 'That wouldn't count. We've gotter find one.'

'Look!' said Ginger excitedly, pointing to a small back window. It was open a few inches at the top, and from the opening swirls of white vapour were pouring out.

'That's smoke! That's a fire!'

William stopped, set down the wheelbarrow and looked at it with the air of an expert.

'Yes, that's a fire all right,' he said.

He advanced and made a closer inspection through the window. Nothing could be seen but the thick eddies of white vapour.

'It's cert'nly a fire all right,' he said again.

The four Outlaws stood gazing in at the window.

'Can't see any flame,' said Henry.

'Course you can't,' said William. 'It's right inside the house, the flame is. We've gotter fight our way through the smoke to the flame. We've gotter tie handkerchiefs over our mouths an' fight our way through the smoke same as the real ones do. There's probably people unconscious inside, overpowered by the fumes, same as there are in the newspapers, an' we've gotter rescue 'em.'

'Won't we let the others help at all?' said Ginger, somewhat appalled by the magnitude of the task that lay before them.

'Oh, yes, we'll send 'em a message about it,' said William, 'an' we'll let 'em come along an' help, but we'll start on it alone first jus' to show 'em. We'll prob'ly 've put it out an' rescued all the people by the time they get here.'

A small boy in spectacles was pa.s.sing along the street. William called to him.

'I say,' he said. 'Go'n' tell the A.F.S. at Hadley Garage that there's a fire at,' he glanced at the number of the street, 'ten, Nelson Street, and tell 'em to come quick.'