"May I come, father?" he asked.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey, in surprise. "So you got dressed too, did you?"

"Yes, sir. May I come?"

Mr. Bobbsey hesitated a moment, and then with a smile, said:

"Well, I suppose so, since you are all ready. I'm taking Bert,"

he called to his wife. "Freddie, you'll have to be the Fat Fireman while I'm gone, and look after the house."

"That's what I will," said Freddie, "and if any sparks fly over here I'll throw the bathroom sponge on 'em!"

"Good!" cried Mr. Bobbsey, and then, he and Bert hurried out.

The fire was now larger, as they could see when they got out in the street. There was no wind and the flames went straight up in the air. There were not many buildings down by the lake, only some boat shelters and places like that. The Bobbsey's boathouse was a fine large one, having recently been made bigger as Mr. Bobbsey was thinking of buying a new motor boat.

Mr. Bobbsey and his son hurried on, following the crowd that filled the street leading to the lake. Several gentlemen knew the lumber merchant, and called to him.

"I guess you're glad this isn't your lumber yard," said one.

"Yes, indeed," was the answer. "I had a little fire there once, and I don't want another. But I'm afraid this is some of my property just the same."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it looks to be my boathouse."

"So it does!" cried another man.

"Oh, father!" cried Bert. "Our nice boathouse!"

"Well, the firemen may save it," said Mr. Bobbsey. "We will hope so, anyhow," he added.

They had not gone on much farther before Mr. Bobbsey and Bert could see that it was indeed their boathouse on fire. One side was all ablaze, and the flames were slowly, but surely, eating their way over the whole place. But two engines were now pumping streams of water on the fire, and they might put it out before too much damage was done.

Mr. Bobbsey rushed forward, and, as the policemen and firemen knew him, they let him get close to the boathouse.

"You stay here, Bert," said Mr. Bobbsey to his son.

"Where are you going?" Bert wanted to know.

"I'm going to see if we can save any of the boats."

There was a sailing craft, a number of rowboats, and a small gasoline launch in the boat-house. They had been stored away for the winter.

"Come on, men!" cried Mr. Bobbsey, as he saw some of his workmen in the crowd. "Help me save the boats!"

All rushed forward willingly, and, as there was part of the place where the flames had not yet reached, they could make their way into the house. They began lowering the boats into the icy water, while the firemen played the several lines of hose on the flames.

The third engine was now working, and so much water was pumped that even a larger fire could not have stood it for very long.

The blaze began to die down, and when Mr. Bobbsey and his men were about to lower the gasoline launch into the icy water the chief ran up, saying:

"You don't need to do that! We've got the fire under control now.

It will soon be out."

"Are you sure?" asked the lumber merchant.

"Yes. You can see for yourself. Leave the boat there. It will be all right."

Mr. Bobbsey looked, and was satisfied that the larger part of the boathouse would be saved. So he and his men stopped their work, and went outside to cool off.

A little later the fire was practically out, but one engine continued to throw water on the smouldering sparks. The crowd began to leave now, for there was nothing more to see, and it was cold.

"My!" exclaimed Bert as his father came back to where he had left his son, "it didn't take long to settle that fire."

"No, we have a good fire department," replied Mr. Bobbsey.

The fire chief came up to Mr. Bobbsey, who expressed his thanks for the quick work of the firemen.

"Have you any idea what started the fire, Mr. Bobbsey?" asked the chief. "Was the boathouse in use?"

"No," was the answer. "It had been closed for the winter some time ago--in fact as soon as the carpenters finished making the changes.

No one was in it as far as I know."

"Then how do you account for this?" asked the chief, as he held out a box partly filled with cigarettes. "I picked these up in the living room," he went on, for the boathouse had one room carpeted, and fitted with chairs and tables, and electric lights where the family often spent evenings during Summer.

"You found those cigarettes in the living room of the boathouse?"

asked Mr. Bobbsey.

"I did; and the question is who was smoking?" went on the chief.

"In my opinion the end of a cigarette thrown aside, or perhaps a lighted match dropped in some corner, started this fire. Who was smoking?"

CHAPTER XX

A CONFESSION

The chief handed Mr. Bobbsey the half-emptied cigarette box. Mr.

Bobbsey turned it over and over in his hand, as though trying to learn to whom it belonged.

"They are something I never use," he said. "I don't suppose we could tell, from this, who had it?"

"No," and the chief shook his head. "It's a common kind, and a good many of the stores sell 'em. A good many of the boys smoke 'em, too--that's the worst of it," and he looked at Bert a bit sharply.