CHAPTER XIV

A DANGEROUS BLAZE

Somewhat puzzled over the words of the tramp, and vainly seeking a meaning for them, Bert turned to join his companions, who were hauling the engine away.

"Who was that fellow?" asked Vincent, who had noticed the man talking to his chum.

"Oh, a friend I once helped out of a difficulty," was the answer, and Bert smiled, as he described the brook as a "difficulty."

"What'd he want; more help?"

"No; he came to thank me. But, come on, let's hustle and get back to quarters. Wasn't it queer old Sagger's place should catch fire?"

"Yes. It serves him right, though, for all the mean things he's said about us."

"He's pretty mean, but I'm sorry his butcher shop is ruined."

"Oh, he's got money enough to build another."

The boys discussed the various scenes at the fire at some length, finally reaching Cole's barn, where the engine, after being cleaned and put in readiness for another alarm, was backed into place.

"I wonder if the town will take any action toward having a regular department now?" asked Vincent, as he and Bert walked toward their homes.

"They might. Sagger will make a big fuss over his loss, and, as he hopes to be the next mayor, he may start a movement. But I'm just as well satisfied to have the department the way it is, for a while. Of course, if the town took hold we could get another engine, and maybe a better alarm system. Constable Stickler can't always be depended on."

"Still, he's done pretty good."

"That's right. Well, so long, Vincent. See you to-morrow," and Bert turned down his street.

"So long," replied his chum. "Hope we don't get another alarm in to-night."

"I wonder who in this place can want a stenographer and typewriter?"

again thought Herbert, as he went into the house. "I wish that tramp had told me. I meant to ask him his name, but I forgot all about it.

Never mind, I may see him again."

There was considerable talk in Lakeville the day following the fire in the butcher shop. Most of it was done by Mr. Sagger himself, and the burden of his cry was that the town must have a regular department, with a big engine. It was pointed out to him that, without a water supply, a steam fire engine was out of the question, and then he said they ought to have another hand engine and some men to run both machines. He spoke of calling a meeting of the Selectmen to consider the matter, but nothing came of it. Probably Mr. Sagger figured up what it would cost, and feared his taxes would be too high. At any rate, nothing was done, though every time he mentioned the fire in his shop the butcher declared there ought to be a regular department. He never said anything about the hundred dollars he had offered for saving his shop.

Considering that the boys had worked hard at the Sagger blaze, Bert had no drills for a week. Then they were resumed again, and furnished plenty of exercise for the young firemen. But, about two weeks after the butcher shop fire, there came another which gave them almost more practice than they wanted.

It was shortly after midnight when the alarm came in, for Constable Stickler was an efficient guardian, in spite of his age, and on one of his trips to the church tower he had seen a flicker of flame off to the west. An instant later he was ringing the bell-four short, sharp, quick strokes.

The boys sleeping in the barn heard them, and so did the boys in their beds at home. They jumped up and, in quick time, the engine had been run out. It was Bert's night on "barn-watch," as it was called, and he and his chums hurried to such good effect that before the alarm had been rung four times they were pulling the engine from the barn.

"Whew! There's quite a wind!" exclaimed Bert as they got outside. "A fire to-night is liable to be a bad one."

"Hark! What's that?" inquired Cole.

The boys heard a distant shouting.

"The bucket brigade is turning out," spoke Tom Donnell.

"No. It's some one yelling about the fire!"

There came a shift in the wind, and to the ears of the boys was borne this cry:

"The lumber yard's on fire! Hurry!"

"The lumber yard!" exclaimed Captain Bert. "If that gets going we can't do anything to stop it!"

"We've got to try," declared Cole.

"Of course," answered Bert, as if any one doubted it. "Come on!"

They increased their pace, and as they neared the end of the long street, they were joined by several of their comrades, who had rushed from their houses half-dressed.

"Where's the fire?" called Bob Fenton, who was hardly awake yet.

"Bergman's lumber yard, I heard some one yell," answered Bert. "And this wind blowing right across the lake toward it!"

The lumber yard of Perrett Bergman was located on the edge of the lake, where boats could easily unload their cargo of timber. It was quite a large yard, and was one of the princ.i.p.al industries of Lakeville. As Bert had said, the wind was blowing right across the lake. The breeze was a stiff one, and if it was sending the flames in among the pile of dried and seasoned boards the fire was likely to be a furious one.

But the boys did not falter. They dragged their rumbling engine as fast as they could, the bell clanging loudly as Cole pulled the cord attached to it. The little company was constantly being increased in numbers. Many of the young firemen, however, had proceeded directly to the scene of the conflagration.

The lurid light in the sky seemed to grow brighter, and there was a thick pall of smoke visible now.

"It's getting worse!" cried Cole.

"You don't expect it's going to put itself out, do you?" asked Frank Burton. "Wait till we get there!"

A little later they turned into the street leading to the lumber yard.

As they did so the blaze shone full in their faces, and they saw where the fire had originated. One of the big lumber barges that plied on the lake was on fire at the dock, and the flames were blowing right toward the heart of the yard, with its piles of timber.

"We've got our work cut out for us!" cried Bert.

"We'll have plenty of water, anyhow," shouted back Cole. "My force pump can be used, too!"

"He'd say something about his force pump if we had a steam fire engine," murmured Vincent.

"Run her right down, boys," called Bert. "Get as close to the water as you can!"

The boys picked their way through the piles of lumber. Already several members of the town bucket brigade were on hand, and they were standing in the shallow part of the lake, dipping up water in their pails and dashing the fluid on the blazing barge. "Volunteers this way!" sung out Bert, and several of his chums, who were already on hand and waiting, hastened to join their comrades.

But now a new problem was presented. The flames, eating their way among the dry lumber on the barge, had a.s.sumed a fierceness that made it impossible to run the engine down on the dock. In fact, the pier was already ablaze in places. Great glowing embers were being carried by the wind into the middle of the yard, but this danger had been seen, and several men were putting out the big sparks as fast as they fell.

But there was every chance that several tiers of lumber near the wharf would ignite from the flames sweeping from the barge. If one or two piles caught, the whole yard would go.