confidential, "it's my opinion, Jim, that you and I shall 'ave a run for
it to-night. It's quite plain that our hamiable friend who seems so
fond o' fire-raisin' is goin' to pay 'is respects to Number 5. 'Avin'
got it well alight it is just within the bounds o' the possible--not to
say prob'ble--that 'e'll give 'em leg-bail--make tracks, as the Yankees
say--cut and run for it. Well, in course it would never do to let 'im
go off alone, or with only a 'eavy stoopid, conceited slow-coach of a
Bobby at 'is tail."

"No, no," responded Little Jim; "that would never do. Quite out of the
question. 'Ighly himproper."

"Therefore," said the Bloater, with emphasis, "you and I shall 'ave to
keep our heyes on 'im, shan't we?"

He put this concluding question with a wink of such astounding
significance, that Little Jim could only reply with another "sk!" as he
stopped for a few moments to hug himself.

At the fire-station "close to Number 5," the firemen lounged about that
evening with the air of men who, although they chanced to be idle at the
moment, were nevertheless on the alert and ready for action at a
moment's notice. Their large folding-doors stood open with an air of
off-hand hospitality. A couple of engines stood within, glittering from
excessive polish and cleanliness. Coils of hose and buckets, etcetera,
were seen here and there in readiness, while in an interior room a
glimpse might be had of gleaming brass helmets, which hung in a row on
the wall, each with an axe pendant below it; and, opposite to these, a
row of dry boots arranged on pegs with their soles to the ceiling.

The two boys lingered about the station admiring all this, and
commenting in their own peculiar fashion on men and things, sometimes
approvingly, often critically, and now and then disparagingly. They
sometimes ventured to address a remark or two to any of the men who
chanced to look at them with a sufficiently good-humoured expression,
and even went the length of asking Bob Clazie if, in the event of the
Thames going on fire, "'e thought 'e could manage to put it hout!" to
which Bob replied that he thought he could if "cheek" were a
fire-extinguisher, and he only had a brigade of boys equal to the
Bloater to help him.

As the night advanced the firemen devoted themselves to pipes, draughts,
and miscellaneous conversation in their back room, in which they were
occasionally interrupted by the tingle of the telegraphic bell, to
inform