no objections to treating the crowd,
as that would give him an opportunity to remain a few minutes more with
the object of his admiration. He continued to watch the motions, whilst
his friends were doing justice to the spirituous decoctions. At last Mr.
Spout told Johnny that it was time to go. Johnny went to the bar, paid
the bill, and, as the party regained the street, Johnny Cake said, with
a sigh, that he only wished he were an oyster, that he, too, might be
the willing victim of that young man's knife. But, inasmuch as he was
not, it was his intention to gratify his desire to see the young man's
manipulations by coming every night until he was satisfied.

It is a fact which may be asserted, that Mr. Johnny Cake, as the members
of the club had now learned to call him, with forty "oysters and the
fixens" on board, did not walk with much apparent comfort.

The club stopped to deliberate, but in the midst of their deliberations
the City Hall bell sounded, and instantly commenced all that furious
uproar peculiar to Gotham at the sound of an alarm of fire. A crowd of
screaming men and boys came tearing along, dragging Engine No. 32-1/2,
which hung back and jumped about, as if determined not to go at any
hazard. About half a block in advance of this crazy throng rushed a
frantic man, with a red shirt and a tin trumpet. Each individual yelled
as if the general resurrection were at hand, and he under special
obligations to wake up some particular friend. The rheumatic engine held
back with all its power, and seemed, for the moment, endowed with a kind
of obstinate vitality. Now it threw its wheel round a lamp-post, then it
tumbled against the curb-stone, then it ran its tongue into an awning,
then affectionately embraced with its projecting arms a crockery-wagon,
and finally, with a kind of inanimate dogged determination not to go
ahead, in turning a short corner, it leaped triumphantly astride a
hydrant, where it stuck. The men tugged, but the engine held fast; the
frantic man in the red shirt came tearing back; he had gone far enough
ahead to see that 13-1/4's boys had got their stream on the fire, and he
was furious at the delay. One mighty jerk, and the men and boys were
piled in a huge kicking mass on the pavement, which phenomenon was
occasioned by the unexpected breaking of the rope. The rope was tied,
and by a united effort directed at the wheels, the brakes, the tongue,
and every get-at-able point, the machine was