"The housekeeper said so," put in Bert.

"Yes, yes! The valuable paintings belonging to Mr. Stockton!"

exclaimed Mrs. Blarc.u.m. "They'll be burned up! The fire is coming this way!"

"I don't care if it is!" fairly shouted Muchmore. "Let the pictures burn. As for you, old woman, if I find you meddling any more, with what doesn't concern you, I'll find a way to stop you! Now clear out!"

The woman shrank back, mumbling to herself, and hastened down the stairs.

"You boys are too fresh!" went on Muchmore. "Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Our business is to put out fires!" declared Herbert. "And that's what we're doing here."

"Then keep out of places where you have no right to enter! There is no fire here!"

"But it may get here soon, and we wanted to save the things," added Vincent.

"Get out!" exclaimed Muchmore, in an angry voice. "Don't you attempt to go into that room. You'd better pay more attention to the blaze."

"The blaze is being attended to all right," replied Herbert. "We've got two streams on it. But if you don't want us to save any goods, I'm sure we don't mind. Come, Vincent, we'll leave."

The two boys, puzzled by Muchmore's queer actions, went back to where their companions were still playing water on the flames.

The fire was now under control, the boys having prevented its spread beyond a small area. Quite a hole was burned in the floor, and the flames had eaten through the side of the house, and burned out two windows. A little more water served to put out the last sparks.

"Guess we're done," said Charlie. "You can signal 'em to stop pumping, Captain Bert," and he laughed, for he was well pleased with his role of fireman. Bert blew the prearranged blasts on his whistle, and the boys at the brakes were glad enough to cease, for their arms ached with the strain. Those drawing water from the cistern likewise welcomed the respite.

"Take up the hose," ordered Herbert, with as much importance as if he was a battalion chief of a big city department.

Tom and Charlie went through the hall, dragging the two lines with them, and the hose was soon reeled back on the engine.

"Guess we've done our share," declared Mr. Sagger, as he called to his men of the bucket brigade. "The fire's out!"

"Well, I can't say that we did it all," Confessed Mr. Appelby. "The boys did the most of it."

"We could have done it without them," a.s.serted the butcher. "They were only in the way. We couldn't use the cistern."

"I guess it's just as well they got there first," went on the mayor of Lakeville. "This looked like a bad blaze, and if it had got beyond control the whole house would have gone. It's as dry as tinder, and a regular death-trap."

"Did you hear what started it, Mr. Appelby?" asked Cole, as he trimmed the lamps on the engine.

"Overheated flue, according to the housekeeper. I was talking to her, but a young fellow came along and ordered her to stop. I wonder who he was?"

"That's Muchmore," declared Herbert "He's in charge since Mr. Stockton has been away. He didn't want us to do anything toward saving some pictures, and he kept me from going in a certain hall. He's a queer chap."

"I should say so," commented Mr. Appelby. "Maybe he lost his head on account of the fire."

"And he lost his manners, too," added Vincent, at the recollection of Muchmore's mean words.

"Well, the house is safe now," went on Mr. Appelby. "I guess we can leave. I suppose Muchmore can attend to things now. Let's gather up the buckets, Sagger, and go home. I'd like to get a little more sleep."

The bucket brigade soon left, and, a little while later, the young firemen, pulling their engine, moved off down the hill, talking over the events of the night. They all agreed that they had been more successful than might have been expected of a new organization.

"I think Muchmore might have at least thanked us," said Tom Donnell.

"He didn't show up after his queer actions."

"There's something funny about that man," declared Bert. "I never saw a person act so suspiciously. He seemed afraid that we would discover something."

"Maybe he was," said George Perkins.

"What?" asked several of his companions.

"Why, I heard that he was a regular gambler," went on George. "He makes a profession of it. Maybe he had a gambling outfit in some of those rooms, and didn't want you to discover it."

"Who told you he was a gambler?" asked Vincent.

"The station agent. He sees him taking the train to the city every once in a while, and one day he saw him in a car, with a man he knows to be a gambler of the worst kind. Oh, Muchmore is a gambler, all right."

"Do you suppose he has gambling games in that house?" inquired Tom Donnell. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"I wonder if Mr. Stockton knows it?" ventured Bert. "I heard my mother say Mr. Stockton was a very fine man, and I don't believe he would allow that if he knew it."

"n.o.body's liable to tell him," went on George. "He seems to have disappeared. That's another queer part of it. The station agent, who knows Mr. Stockton quite well, doesn't remember his going away, and he'd have to go from here to New York, if he sailed for Europe, which is the story Muchmore tells in the village."

"Boys," said Bert suddenly, "I believe there is something mysterious about that house. I thought so when I saw how queer Muchmore acted.

Now, with what George tells me, I am more than ever inclined to that belief."

"What can we do about it?" asked Vincent.

"Maybe we can investigate," went on Herbert, "I'd like to find out more about the place."

"We might make an excuse for going there tomorrow, by asking if the fire did much damage," suggested Cole.

"And be put out for our pains," objected Vincent. "No, I'm going to stay away from there."

"I guess that will be best, for a time," decided Bert.

CHAPTER XII

SAGGER'S FIRE LOSS

Though the boys were not thanked by Muchmore, for their good work at the blaze in the Stockton mansion, the lads knew that they had done efficient service. Herbert, however, was not satisfied with his department.

"There are lots of things we'll have to do better," he told Vincent and Cole, the next day. "We get in each other's way, and we're not quick enough. Why, it took ten minutes for all of us to a.s.semble last night."