Tom. "I didn't know there were so many folks in the
town!" Already a small-sized crowd had gathered in front of the fire
house, some fifty yards up the street. The doors rolled open and a
figure pushed through the throng and loped across the street and
disappeared. The bell clanged on and on. Don and Clint and Tom made a
dash for the steps. Tim slid over the railing. But before any of them
had more than reached the sidewalk the tall owner of the automobile
catapulted himself down the steps, hailing them as he came.

"Where is it, boys?" he shouted.

"Over there," answered Clint, pointing. But the glow in the sky was
scarcely visible from the sidewalk and they all swarmed back to the
porch again.

"I see," said the man. "Some farm house, I guess. They'll know at the
fire house." He sprang down the steps again, the boys streaming after
him. He was already in the car when Tim asked breathlessly: "You going,
sir?"

"Sure! Want to come? Pile in, then. There are some packages in there.
Look out for them."

Clint had already put his foot down hard on something that, whatever it
might be, was never meant to be walked on, but he made no mention of the
fact. The car leaped forward, swung to the right, stopped with a jerk
six inches from a lamp-post, backed, straightened out and careened along
to the fire house. All was excitement there. Men were rushing into the
building and rushing out again, agitatedly donning rubber coats and
hats. Speculation was rife. A score of voices argued as to the location
of the fire. The throng swayed back and forth. The man in the car
demanded information as he drew up at the curb and a dozen answers were
flung at him. Then a small, fat man ran up and leaned excitedly across
the front of the auto. "Hello, Mr. Brady!" he panted. "You going out
there?"

"Yes, but I've got a load, Johnson. Where is it?"

"Don't no one seem to know. Jim Cogswell knows, but he's gone for the
horses."

"Look out! Here they come!" "Get that auto out of the way there!" "Stand
aside, everyone!" "Get a move on, Jim!" A lean little man in his shirt
sleeves suddenly appeared leading two jogging horses, while a third
horse trotted along behind. The crowd scampered aside and the horses
beat a tattoo on the floor as they wheeled to their places. Mr. Brady
jumped from his seat, pushed his way through the crowd as it closed in
again about the doorway and disappeared. Tim whooped with delight.

"What did I tell you?" he de