"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," asserted 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."

"Nobody'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 assemble last night."

"I don't see any other way of working it than the way we have been doing," replied Cole, "All the boys run when they hear the bell."

"Yes, I know, but the trouble is some of them have to run too far."

"How else can we do it?" asked Vincent.

"I've been thinking of a plan," replied the young captain.

"What is it?"

"Well, we might divide the company into three divisions. One division, say of about ten boys, could sleep in Cole's barn for two nights, or maybe three. Then, if an alarm came in they would be right there to rush the engine out. The other boys would stay in their homes, and, as soon as they heard the bell, they'd run to the fire. In that way they'd get to the blaze about the same time the engine would, and there'd be no delay."

"That is a good scheme," declared Cole. "We've got some old cot beds we could put here in the barn to sleep on."

"Oh, the hay's good enough in the summer time," replied Bert. "Of course, we couldn't stay here in the winter, unless we fixed up a place with a stove. Besides, in winter we have to go to school, and we haven't so much time to attend to fires."

"That's so, our department is liable to go all to pieces when school opens," admitted Cole. "That's too bad! And I was just thinking of a plan to attach my force pump to the engine, so as to give us three lines of hose."

"Say, haven't you got anything else to talk about except that force pump?" asked Vincent. "You must have it on the brain."

"Just the same, that's a dandy pump," went on Cole. "I put a new kind of valve in this morning, and she squirts a hundred feet now. Let me show you."

"No, let's talk some more about our department," said Vincent. "Do you think the boys will like this new plan, Bert?"

"I guess so. We'll ask 'em, anyhow. And then there's another thing."

"What is it?"

"I think we ought to have some drills. As it is now some of the boys don't know what to do. They don't pump good, and they don't pass water good. We ought to have more practice."

"So we had," admitted Vincent. "Lots of the fellows spilled about half the water on the ground last night, instead of putting it in the tank. They were so excited."

"A drill would help that," observed Bert. "We'll get the fellows together in a couple of nights, and talk things over."

This was done, and Bert's plan, of having a part of the force stay on duty in Cole's barn every night, met with instant approval. In fact they had to draw lots to see which boys would take the first three nights, as every one wanted that honor. It was arranged that those in the barn would rush out with the engine, as soon as they heard the alarm on the church bell. The others would assemble at the scene, as soon as they could get there. Some of the boys called it "camping out" to stay at the barn.

"And we'll have a drill to-morrow," said Bert. "We need lots of practice. There are some old buildings in this town, and if they get on fire we'll have a hard job putting them out."

"Especially if they're a good distance from water," added Cole.

The drill took place the next afternoon. A big fire, of old boxes, was built in a vacant lot, the location of which was known only to Bert and Vincent. At a certain time, the hour also being unknown to the boys, the bell was rung, permission to do so having been obtained.

One or two boys had been hanging around Cole's barn all day, having anticipated the alarm, and they wanted to rush off with the engine at once, but Vincent, who arrived shortly after the first round of two strokes, which showed that the fire was in the eastern section, would not permit this.

"No, we've got to wait for the others," he said. "It's only at night that the new plan is to go into effect."

Soon nearly every member of the company was at the barn, and, with yells, cheers and shouts, the boys dragged the engine through the streets to where the fire had been kindled.

"Pretty good!" exclaimed Herbert. "You got here in eight minutes, and it's farther than it was to the Stockton mansion. Now, then, douse the fire!"

The big pile of boxes was blazing furiously, but the boys ran the engine close to a small pond, the bucket corps got busy, the hose lines were unreeled, and, in less than three minutes, there was only a smoking heap where there had been fierce flames.

"That's the stuff, boys!" exclaimed Mayor Appelby, who was among the spectators that had gathered. "First thing you know the town will have to vote you an appropriation."

"Humph!" retorted Mr. Sagger, the miserly butcher. "If the bucket brigade was here we could do better than that. The brigade is good enough for Lakeville, and it keeps down taxes."

"Yes, and sends our fire losses up," added the mayor. "Insurance rates would be much lower if we had a good fire department, even as good a regular one as the boys' volunteer organization is."

"I don't believe it," declared the obstinate butcher.

For the next week the boys had several drills, and they showed a great improvement. The different divisions took turns sleeping in the barn, though they were disappointed that no alarm came in to test their abilities. Some improvements had been made to the engine, for Cole, after much experimenting, had mounted his force pump on the forward part of the tank, and attached a long garden hose to the spout. With it he could send a small stream a considerable distance, though not much water went through the small hose, as compared with the larger lines.

"It'll do for small fires," observed Cole, with much satisfaction, as he contemplated his work.

The very night that Cole finished the work of attaching his force pump, an alarm came in about eleven o'clock. The volunteer division, which was assigned to barn duty that night, had hardly retired to the cots or the haymow, when the clanging bell told them there was a blaze.

"Lively, boys!" cried Cole, who assumed the post of captain until Bert arrived.

Surely no boys ever dressed more rapidly than did the ten lads in the barn. In really quick time they were running the engine out of the driveway, and Cole cried:

"Three strokes! Over to the south side! Say! But it's quite a blaze, all right!"

The sky was already showing a bright glow.

"It's Sagger's butcher shop!" cried Tom Donnell. "Look, it's blazing like fury!"

The shop was indeed wrapped in flames.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" cried Constable Stickler, and scores of voices joined in the shout.

"Come on! Come on!" yelled Mr. Sagger, as he stood in front of his store, fairly jumping up and down in his excitement. "The whole place will go if you don't hurry, boys!"

"I wonder why he doesn't shout for the bucket brigade now?" asked Cole, as he steered the engine as close as he could to the flaming structure.

"That's right, boys! Put out the fire!" cried Mr. Sagger. "I'll give you a hundred dollars if you save my shop!"



CHAPTER XIII

SINGING A DIFFERENT TUNE

From various directions came running the young members of the volunteer fire department. The bucket brigade was also on hand, and had formed a line from the town pump, which stood near the store, as close to the burning shop as they dared to go. The whole interior seemed a mass of flames.

"Where will we get water?" shouted Cole to Bert, who had arrived on the run.

"Back the engine down to the brook!" cried the young captain. "Isn't the hose long enough to reach from there?"

"Yep! Plenty!"

"Then back her down!"

The flames were crackling and roaring, and the smoke was so thick and choking, because of the burning meats and fats, that it was impossible to go very close. The bucket brigade had to beat a retreat, and, though they had the satisfaction of first getting water on the blaze, it was an empty honor.

"Lively, now, boys!" cried Bert. "Take one nozzle, Vincent! George, you grab another! Hold 'em here, and we'll unreel the hose when we back the engine!"

It was rather hard work to push the clumsy machine down through the yard of the house adjoining the butcher shop, to where the brook flowed back of the store. But it was accomplished by the boys unaided, for the men were busy trying to find some means of using their buckets.

"Dip and fill!" cried Bert, as the corps of pail handlers lined up from the engine to the brook.

Water began to splash into the tank and soon there was enough to begin pumping. Up and down went the long handles, impelled by the sturdy arms of ten boys.

"Wait!" cried Cole. "You're not using my force pump. Somebody take the hose. I'll work her!"

"I will!" cried Dick Harris, glad of the chance to handle a nozzle, even if it was only a small one, and unreeling the garden hose Cole had attached to his beloved pump, he started toward the burning butcher shop.

The young firemen soon found they had all they could do in quenching this fire. It was the fiercest one they had yet undertaken to subdue.

It was so hot that the boys at the nozzles had to be relieved every few minutes, and Bert was kept busy making shifts from the bucket corps or from among the pumpers.

The men's bucket brigade could only throw water on from the rear, where the fire was less hot, but the boys pluckily stuck to the front, and directed their three streams into the midst of the flames. Clouds of steam arose as the fluid fell on the hot embers.

"Can't you throw any more water on?" demanded Mr. Sagger, who continued to run up and down in front of his place, deploring his loss.

"We're doing the best we can," answered Bert.

"We ought to have a regular department, that's what we ought to have!" declared the butcher. "It's a shame that business men have to suffer losses by fire. What we need is a regular department here, with a steam fire engine."

"He's singing a different tune from what he did a week or so ago," thought Bert. "Then the bucket brigade was good enough. I guess he wishes we had two volunteer departments now."

It seemed as if the whole shop must go. The fire, as they learned later, had started in the sawdust packing of the ice box, and it had been smouldering for some time before being discovered. Then, with the sawdust and pine wood to feed on, in addition to the fat meats, the flames were more from what it had been at the Stockton blaze.

"Do you think you can save part of it?" asked the butcher, anxiously, of Bert. The man's manner toward the young fireman was quite different from what it had been at the Stockton.

"We're doing our best, Mr. Sagger," replied the young captain. "It's a hard fire to fight. The bucket brigade could come up closer now, the flames aren't quite so hot."

"That's so. I'll tell 'em." He ran to where the members of the department to which he belonged were futilely passing buckets of water.

"Why don't you come around front and closer?" the butcher asked them. "You ain't doing any good here!"

"Why don't you take a hand yourself?" demanded Silas Lampert. "You ain't doing anything but running up and down."

"I'll help," declared Mr. Sagger. "I declare, I don't know what I am doing! This will be a heavy loss to me!"

"I guess you can stand it," murmured Mr. Lampert. "You got lots of money salted down, same as you have your pork."

"Come on, help me save the shop!" cried the butcher, and his fellow members of the bucket brigade followed him.

Fortunately, there was not much meat in the ice box, and when it had all been consumed, and there was only wood for the fire to feed on, the blaze was less fierce. The water from the three lines of hose and that dashed on by the men, who could now approach quite close, had its effect. In a little while the fire was about out, and Bert ordered the boys to use only one line of hose, which made it easier on the pumpers and bucket lads. Then, with a final hiss and splutter, the fire died away.

"It's a terrible loss!" declared the butcher, as he contemplated the ruins of his shop. "I'll lose over a thousand dollars."

"Haven't you any insurance?" asked Mr. Appelby.

"Yes, it's fully covered by insurance; but think of the trade I'll lose until I can build a new shop!"

"Oh, I guess you can put up some kind of a shack that will do for a while. We don't need much meat in the summer time."

"I tell you what it is!" exclaimed Mr. Sagger, "we've got to have a regular department, mayor; that's what we have! We can't have business places burn up this way. Why, it will ruin the town!"

"Well, if the taxpayers wanted a hired department they can have it," declared Mr. Appelby. "But it will cost money."

"Well, it ought to come out of the town treasury," went on the butcher. "Taxes is high enough now. Maybe we could get an engine cheap, somewhere."

"What's the matter with paying the boys for theirs ?" asked the mayor.

"No, we want men to run the department," objected the butcher.

"Those boys are as good as men," asserted Mr. Appelby, as he watched the lads, under Bert's direction, take up their hose and get the engine in shape for returning to quarters. "I guess old Sagger is afraid his taxes will go up. But we do need a regular department," he added to himself.

As Bert was getting the boys together to haul the engine back to the barn, he was approached by a man who emerged from the crowd.

"You did fine work," the man said, in a low voice.

Bert looked at him. It was the tramp stenographer he had pulled from the brook.

"How do you do!" the boy exclaimed. "How are you getting on?"

"First rate. I braced up after I met you. Guess that little bath did me good. I did some odd jobs for the farmers around here, and my health is better. Here's that quarter back."

"I don't want it."

"I suppose not; but I want to pay it. I've got a little money saved up, and the promise of a good job at my profession."

"Where?"

"Here in town. I'll tell you about it later, as I see you're busy," and, before Bert could ask any more questions, the tramp, whose appearance had improved considerably since the brook episode, was lost in the throng.

"That's queer," thought Bert. "I wonder who in this town would want a stenographer and typewriter?"



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 principal 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 assumed 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.

"What are we going to do?" cried Vincent to the young captain. "We can't get out engine down there!"

Bert was puzzled. It was a new problem for the amateur fireman, and he hardly knew what to do. But to get close enough to the blaze to use the engine and at the same time have a supply of water, was not an easy thing to work out.

Just then the burning barge swung down the lake, for the cables had been eaten through by the flames, and the wind was carrying it away. The sight of that gave Bert an inspiration.

"Come on!" he cried. "I see a way!"

"How?" asked Cole.

"We'll run the engine out on that empty flat-boat. We can pole it out into the lake, and play on the barge from the side where there are no flames! Lively, now, boys!"

They saw his meaning at once. There were plenty of boards at hand to make a runway for the engine, and in a little while it was on the flatboat. Then, with long poles which reached to the bottom of the lake, the boat was shoved out from shore.

"The barge is adrift!" cried Tom Donnell.

"Then we've got to go after it!" responded Bert. "We can make a line fast and tow it away, or it will set the other barges below here on fire, and we'll have more than we can handle. If we can keep the blaze to the one barge we'll be all right"

It was hard work, but the boys accomplished it. They put their flatboat close to the side of the blazing craft, where there were no flames, and made fast. Then they poled both boats well out into the lake.

"The dock is burning!" cried Cole.

"Let the bucket brigade attend to that," answered Herbert. "We've got our hands full here!"

Indeed they had, but the contest was more even now. The boys, using buckets with ropes attached, dipped from the lake the water which they poured into the engine, tank, and then the three streams were turned on the burning barge.



CHAPTER XV

A GENEROUS OFFER

Never since they had organized their little department had the boys worked under such difficulties. There was no getting away from this blaze. They were fast to it, and to cut loose meant to endanger other lumber barges nearby, which would mean a terrible conflagration.

It was hard work to keep the burning boat and that on which the engine was out in the lake, as a strong wind was forcing them both toward shore. It was also difficult to operate the pump, for the engine did not set level, and the boys on top of the tank had to cling there as best they could and send the big handles up and down. It was hard work to stand the fierce heat and choking smoke which enveloped them every now and again, as the wind shifted.

But the boys were no "milksops." They stuck to it, though it meant much physical pain. They gritted their teeth, and held their breaths when it was necessary. Some clung to the poles like grim death and prevented the barges from drifting, and all the while others were dipping and pumping water.

"I—I think we've got her!" cried Cole, when this desperate work had been going on for ten minutes.

"Don't be too sure!" cautioned Captain Bert. "There's lots of fire yet!"

There was, but the three streams of water, even if one was a small one, were beginning to tell. Gradually the flames amid the lumber on the barge began to die away. Once or twice it seemed as if the boat would break loose and go drifting down on the others, but grit told, and the boys held the craft.

"She's out now!" cried Vincent, as only a pall of smoke seemed to hang over the barge, and the boys at the brakes, hearing this with feelings of relief, ceased pumping. No sooner had they stopped than the flames burst out in a new place, and flared up fiercely.

"Jump right on the barge and take the hose with you," cried Bert, for the fire had been extinguished on that end of the barge nearest the flat-boat. "The water will do more good at close range."

The young firemen needed no second order. Dragging three lines of hose with them they leaped aboard the flaming boat and scrambled over the piles of charred lumber to the farther end, where the flames now were.

Then the fire gave up the fight. The last flame was quenched and the boys could take a much-needed rest.

"What'll we do now?" asked Cole of Bert. Every one seemed to depend on the young captain for instructions.

"I think we'd better run the barge ashore below here," he said. "Then there'll be no danger if the fire breaks out again."

"I'll guarantee that fire won't break out again," boasted Cole. "We soaked it too well."

"You can't tell what a fire will do," replied Bert. "It may be smouldering down in a corner where the water didn't reach."

"Have Cole leave his force pump on guard," suggested Vincent, "That pump ought to be able to put out a fire all alone."

"Humph! That pump's all right, if you do make fun of it!" declared the owner of the latest addition to the fire apparatus. "It'll throw a stream farther than either of the big hose on this engine."

"Well, let's run the barge ashore, then pole back and get our engine off," proposed Bert. "I guess it's safe enough to leave the barge now."

They tied the blackened load of lumber in a little shallow cove, where, if it did start to burn again, no damage would result. Then they went back to the lumber yard, where they found a big crowd waiting them. The fire on the dock had been extinguished by members of the bucket brigade and had not amounted to much.

"Boys, I want to shake hands with every one of you!" exclaimed a voice, as Bert led his command ashore. "You did me a great service to- night, and I'll not forget it. But for your prompt action my lumber yard would have been destroyed and several of my valuable barges besides."

The speaker was Mr. Perrett Bergman, owner of the lumber yard, and, as each boy stepped ashore, he shook him warmly by the hand.

"Yes, Mr. Bergman, those boys certainly did themselves proud," said Mayor Appelby. "They're almost as good as a regular department."

"That's what they are. Well, I'll have something to say about that later. Now, I must go and see if there are any stray sparks around anywhere, and I want to investigate this fire. I have an idea it was set by tramps. That barge came down the lake early this evening, and the men in charge of it told me they threw a tramp overboard who was stealing a ride on it."

"Threw him overboard?" repeated Mr. Appelby.

"Yes. I told them that was the wrong thing to do, as the man might have been drowned, but lumbermen are rather rough. However, the tramp swam ashore, they told me. I have an idea he might have set the barge afire for revenge."

"It's possible," admitted the mayor. "I'll tell Constable Stickler to be on the watch for any suspicious characters."

Bert, who heard this conversation, wondered if the tramp he had rescued from the brook, or any of his companions, had started the fire.

"I hope the one I saved didn't do it," mused the boy. "He seemed like a decent chap in hard luck." Nothing was ever learned, however, of how the fire started. Certainly the tramp stenographer had nothing to do with it.

Several members of the bucket brigade assisted the boys in getting the engine off the flatboat. In fact, of late the men fire-fighters of Lakeville were beginning to entertain different feelings toward their boy rivals. They saw that the lads meant business, and that they were a corps of very efficient youngsters. Some of the men imagined that the volunteers were only doing the thing for fun, but what happened at the lumber yard blaze convinced them that they were mistaken.

"We seem to be right in it," remarked Cole, as they were dragging the engine back to quarters a little later. "Plenty of fires for us to put out lately."

"Yes. I wonder what Mr. Bergman meant when he said he'd not forget what we did for him?" asked Vincent.

"Oh, probably he's just like old Sagger," replied Tom Donnell. "You remember, Sagger promised us a hundred dollars for helping put out the fire in his shop."

"That's so; he did."

"Yes, but we haven't seen the hundred dollars yet, and I don't believe we ever will," declared Tom. "He's too stingy to give it to us. If we had it we could finish paying for the engine and get uniforms. That's what we need. I've worn out two suits of clothes running to fires lately."

"Uniforms would be a good thing to have," admitted Bert. "We need rubber boots, especially. My feet are soaking wet. It doesn't matter so much in summer, but if we go to a fire in the winter and get wet through it won't be so nice."

"Well, I don't believe Mr. Bergman will ever do anything for us," insisted Tom.

But he was mistaken. The very next day Bert received a letter from the owner of the lumber yard, in which Mr. Bergman thanked the young firemen for what they had done. Nor was this all. Enclosed in the letter was a check for two hundred dollars.

"I send you this as a small taken of my appreciation," the letter read. "Not that it pays for the work you did, for you saved me a good many hundred dollars by pulling that barge out of the way. But this is only a starter. I understand your engine is not yet paid for, and that you have no uniforms. Please use the check for that purpose. You will also hear further from me in a few days. I have a plan to propose, but I want to talk it over with the town authorities first."

"Say, he's all right!" exclaimed Cole, when Bert showed him the letter and check.

"He certainly is. I was barking up the wrong tree," admitted Tom. "Say, we'll be a sporty department, all right! Let's get red and blue uniforms. They'll look swell!"

"I wonder what his plan is?" asked Bert. "He says he has to consult with the town authorities about it."

"Maybe he wants us to take in the bucket brigade," ventured Vincent.

"Better wait and see," advised Bert.



CHAPTER XVI

MR. BERGMAN'S PLAN

Never had Lakeville been so stirred as when, a few days after the lumber yard fire, notices were posted in various parts of the town, stating that a special meeting of the Selectmen would be held to take action on an offer made by Mr. Bergman to equip a regular fire department for the place.

"So, that's what he meant!" remarked Bert, when he read the notices. "Well, I wonder where we'll be, if they have a regular department?"

"Oh, I suppose the bucket brigade will be taken in, and they'll run the whole thing," said Vincent, a little bitterly.

"If they do, we'll keep our old hand engine and run to blazes just the same," declared Cole.

"That's what we will," added Captain Bert.

The notices announced that the meeting would be a public one, and would be held in the town hall, over the post-office. Opportunity would be given for all interested to state their views, the notice added.

"Then we'll state ours," threatened Cole. "Bert, can't you go there and make a speech?"

"I suppose I can, if the boys want me to. But what shall I say?"

"Oh, wait until we get there and see how things look. But if they want to turn us down, you get up and protest. We'll stand by you."

"All right," agreed Bert. "I think we ought to have something to say."

"So do I," came from Tom Donnell. "Put it good and strong, Bert."

The night of the meeting found nearly every male resident of Lakeville present, and there were some women and girls in the audience. In the meanwhile, the members of the volunteer department had used Mr. Bergman's donation to pay off the small balance due on their engine, and had purchased their uniforms. They were quite natty, consisting of blue trousers and red shirts, with helmets of the same fiery color, and belts with a large brass buckle in front.

The boys marched into the hall in a body, and took seats together.

"Oh, aren't they just too cute for anything!" exclaimed Nellie Travers to her chum, Jane Alton.

"They look quite business-like," commented Jane.

"Yes, but those uniforms are dear, aren't they?" "I don't know. I heard my brother Ned say they were quite cheap," went on Jane, who was something of a joker.

"Oh, Jane! You know I mean they're too sweet for anything! I just wish there'd be a fire alarm come in now, so I could see them run."

"I don't; I want to see what they're going to do at this meeting. Ned is worried for fear they'll break up the boys' department."

"That would be a shame."

"I think so, too. But, hush! Mayor Appelby is going to speak."

The mayor, who had been elected chairman of the meeting, told the object of the gathering. He said they had assembled to hear an offer that was to be made by their "distinguished fellow citizen, the Honorable Perrett Bergman." There were some cheers and applause at this, and Mr. Bergman arose.

"What I have to say will not take up much of your time," he began. "You all know we have had several fires lately, and that a number of lads of this village have constituted themselves a fire department. I need not point out what good work they have done. It speaks for itself.

"The recent blaze in my lumber yard has confirmed an impression I have had for some time, and that is, that we should have a regular department in this village. I think, with all due respect to it, that we have outgrown the bucket brigade!"

"That's right!" called some one from the rear of the hall.

"The bucket brigade did good work," asserted Moses Sagger.

"I know that," admitted Mr. Bergman, "but the village is growing. I do not hesitate to say that if it had not been for the boys' volunteer department I would be a much poorer man to-night than I am."

"Hurrah for the boys!" exclaimed a man, and there were hearty cheers.

"In brief, my offer is this," continued Mr. Bergman. "I am willing to buy a complete outfit for a fire department. I will furnish everything except the members of it, and I will even pay for having installed an electric alarm system, with pull boxes in various places. I will also equip a small fire headquarters. In view of the fact that we have no water system, I would suggest that chemical engines be used."

"That's right," came from Mayor Appelby.

"I now, then, offer to purchase two of the best chemical engines that can be bought," went on Mr. Bergman. "I think we will not need horses, as the engines are light, and half a dozen persons can haul them. With two of these machines, one on either side of the town, we can take care of almost any ordinary blaze, as the houses here are not so close together that we will have any great conflagration. Now it remains for the town to act on my offer. Remember, I will furnish all the money needed for the engines, and to fit up a headquarters. All I ask the town to do is to supply the members and places in which to keep the engines."



"You have heard the very generous offer of our distinguished fellow townsman and public-spirited citizen, the Honorable Perrett Bergman," said Mayor Appelby, pompously. "What have you to say?"

"I say take it!" exclaimed Moses Sagger, quickly. He saw a chance for a good fire department without any increase in the taxes.

"That's right! Accept the offer!" came from various parts of the hall.

"With thanks!" added a more thoughtful man.

"You seem to be of one mind," went on the mayor. "I shall now put the question to a vote."

"One moment, if you please," began Bert, rising to his feet. He was rather pale, for he was not used to speaking in public.

"What is it, Herbert?" asked Mr. Appelby. "Don't you favor this?"

"I most certainly do, and so do all the boys. All we want to know is, what will become of our department?"

"Oh, we won't need you boys when we get the chemical engines," said Mr. Sagger quickly. "The members of the bucket brigade will attend to them. You boys can give your old engine away if you want to."

"We'll do nothing of the kind!" exclaimed Bert. "We bought and paid for that engine, when there was no prospect of Lakeville having anything like a department. Now we have a good organization and—-"

"Yes, and we can put out fires!" interrupted Cole. "My force pump—-"

"Dry up!" exclaimed Vincent, pulling Cole by the coat-tails. "Let Bert do the talking."

"That's all right. I was going to tell them about my force pump," murmured Cole.

"They don't want to hear it. Listen."

"I think we ought at least be allowed to continue our organization, and be recognized by the town as a part of the fire department," went on Bert. "We don't ask to run your chemical engines, but we would like to keep our hand engine."

"No, we don't want it!" cried Mr. Sagger. "We have no use for you boys. The men can run things in this town, We'll merge the bucket brigade into a regular department."

"That's what we will!" came from some of the older members of that ancient organization. "Then we might as well go home, boys!" exclaimed Herbert, somewhat bitterly. "They have no use for us here."

"One moment!" exclaimed Mr. Bergman, rising in his seat.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"I think some of you men are under a little misunderstanding," he went on. "My offer to buy two chemical engines was made because of the very efficient work the boys of this town did in putting out the fire in my lumber yard. I most certainly will not consent to thrusting the boys aside, now that we are about to have a regular department."

"Hurrah!" came from the irrepressible Cole. "My force pump—-"

But his companions made him keep silent.

"I may say," went on Mr. Bergman, with a look at the boys, in their natty uniforms, "that my offer depends on one thing."

"What is that?" asked Mr. Appelby quickly.

"It is this: That the boys are to be in charge of the regular department, just as they now are of the volunteer one!"

"Hurrah!" cried Cole again, and his chums joined in with him. "My force—-"

"Ain't the bucket brigade going to run things?" inquired Mr. Sagger.

"With all due respect to that organization, they are not!" replied Mr. Bergman loudly. "I will furnish the money for the engines only on the condition that the same boys, who did such good work at the fire in my place, continue in charge. The members of the bucket brigade may join if they wish, but the boys are the ones I want to see in control. They have proved what they can do, and I would recommend that Captain Herbert Dare be made the chief of the new department!"

"Whoop!" shouted Cole, standing up, and waving his hat. "That's the stuff! Whoop! Hurrah!"



CHAPTER XVII

THE ENGINES ARRIVE

There was instant excitement in the hall. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. The boys of the town were standing together, cheering for Herbert. Mayor Appelby was vainly rapping for order. At last Mr. Sagger made his voice heard above the others.

"I say if that boy is made head of the fire department none of us men will join!" he shouted. "We'll stick to the bucket brigade!"

"That's what!" declared several of his cronies.

"I wish you to remember one thing," replied Mr. Bergman. "I am paying for this improvement, and I think I ought to have something to say about it. Another thing, the town ought to be glad to get a good, up- to-date department. If you don't accent my offer then I must consider moving my lumber yard to a location where there is better fire protection."

This was something of which no one had thought, A number of the men of Lakeville found employment in the lumber yard, and if it went to some other town it would mean quite a loss.

"Then there is one last point," went on Mr. Bergman. "These boys know more about fighting fires than you men ever will. They have showed that already, and I want to give them due credit. I think Herbert Dare has proved that he knows how to handle a blaze, and how to use his force of boys to the best advantage. I have learned that his father was a regular city fireman. Either he is to be made chief of the new department or there isn't going to be any department."

This was plain talk, and the objectors knew Mr. Bergman meant it.

"I, for one, would be only too glad to see the boys run the department," said Mayor Appelby. "They have more time than we have."

"That's so," agreed a number, as the sentiment began to swing around the other way.

"I'd like to say a few words," spoke up Herbert, rising in his seat.

"Go on!" invited Mr. Appelby encouragingly.

"This offer of Mr. Bergman's is a complete surprise to me," said the boy. "I never sought the position of head of the new department."

"We know that," spoke a friendly voice.

"And I want to say that if there is going to be any feeling over the matter I'd rather not have it," went on Bert. "We boys will continue our own department and—"

"You'll do nothing of the kind," interrupted Mr. Bergman. "Lakeville is going to take a step forward, and you boys are the best persons to help her."

"I don't want to take the place, and feel that there is jealousy," added Herbert. "I admit I would feel proud of the honor, but—"

"He's the best chief we could have," interjected Cole, "and with my force pump—"

"That'll do you," put in Vincent, pulling Cole back to his seat for the seventh time.

"Let's vote on it!" called a man. "I'm in favor of the boys every time! Remember, they'll be men in a few years."

This brought matters to a head. There was considerable more discussion, but, with the exception of two or three, everyone was in favor of Mr. Bergman's plan, for he had used arguments that appealed to the majority.

A vote was taken, and was almost unanimous in favor of accepting the offer, and putting the boys in charge, with Herbert Dare as chief. As there were to be two engines, Vincent Templer was made assistant chief, to be in charge of the second apparatus.

Other officers were named from among the boys, and, as there were to be two companies, located in different parts of the town, places were made for all the lads who cared to join.

It was decided to keep the old hand engine for use in emergencies, and, as there would be no need of any one operating the new engines, since they worked automatically, the young fire fighters were advised by Mr. Bergman to develop themselves into a sort of salvage corps, to save goods at a fire, while one or two boys were at the chemical nozzles.

This much being accomplished, Mr. Bergman went into financial details with the officials of Lakeville. It was decided to have a simple alarm system, with boxes located at the more prominent places in the village, and an arrangement whereby the signal would be sounded on a big bell, which would be erected on a steel tower.

It took some time to put these improvements into shape, but in about three weeks they were finished, and the two chemical engines had arrived from the factory.

"Say! They're beauties!" exclaimed Cole, happily, as he and the other boys went down to the freight depot to see them. "I wonder if they can throw a stream as far as my force pump?"

"Are you still talking about your force pump?" asked Tom Donnell.

"Well, it's a good pump," replied Cole, defending his invention.

"Wait until you see these," said Mr. Bergman, who had come to superintend unloading the engines.

Each chemical apparatus consisted of a large copper tank on four wheels. It had a long hose, on a reel, and a rope to pull the machine by, similar to the old hand engine.

But the principle of the new engines was entirely different. They shot a chemical stream at the fire, instead of one of merely water, and carbonous acid, or, as it is commonly called, carbonic acid gas, was generated. Fire will not burn where this gas exists, so that a small stream of the chemical was more effective than a big stream of water. The gas, being heavier than air, forms a sort of blanket over a blaze.

In the big copper tank was placed water, in which was dissolved some bicarbonate of soda, the sort mothers use to cook with. Then, in a small receptacle, fitting in one end of the big cylinder, was some sulphuric acid, or oil of vitriol. The two liquids were prevented from mixing until the proper time, by a simple arrangement.

When a fire occurred the chemical engine was to be hurried to the place. The hose would be unreeled, and then a lever and valve wheel would be turned, breaking the glass receptacle in which the sulphuric acid was held. This allowed the acid to mingle with the solution of soda water, and a strong gas was at once formed. The gas was under such pressure that it forced the combined soda and acid solution out through the hose for a considerable distance. It could be played on the fire, the gas would be generated, and the blaze would be extinguished in much less time than if water was used, and there would be less damage done.

"Those are certainly fine engines," declared Bert. "I guess we'll have to have some practice with them before we'll know how to run them."

"They are very simple in operation," said Mr. Bergman. "We'll arrange for some tests soon."

"We ought to have a parade," suggested Vincent. "Let's take 'em through the town, and show the people what we've got."

"A good idea," declared Mr. Bergman. "And, while we're about it, why not have a picnic."

"A picnic?" repeated Bert.

"Yes. Why not? Every village fire department has a picnic once a year. I don't see why Lakeville can't. It will stir the people up, and get rid of some of this jealous feeling."

"I guess the boys would like it all right," replied Bert.

"Then we'll have it over in Tillman's grove. I'll make the arrangements, and let you boys know when it's to be. Now we'd better get the engines into quarters."

It had been decided to keep one engine in Cole's barn, and another in the basement of the town hall, as these two places were far enough apart to give good protection in case of fire. The alarm system had been installed some days before, and Lakeville was now in good shape to take care of a blaze. Several members of the bucket brigade made application to join the new department, and they were taken in. Moses Sagger and some of his cronies, however, still held out.

As the boys dragged the new chemical engines through the town, quite a crowd came out to look at them. The machines glittered with brass and copper, highly polished, and made a fine appearance.

"Them things don't look as if they could put out a fire," said an old resident, who was used to seeing the bucket brigade or a hand engine at work. "Why, there ain't no pump, nor yet any pails."

"They say the pump's inside that there big copper cylinder," explained a man standing near him.

"Humph! Looks like an old wash boiler stuck on four wheels. That ain't any good. You need water to put out a fire."

"You do, eh?" thought Cole, who overheard this remark. "Well, we'll show you, some day."

The engines were soon in their quarters, and were charged with the soda and acid, according to the directions sent by the manufacturers.

"Now, we're all ready for a fire!" exclaimed Bert, as he and his chums looked at the machine in Cole's barn, while an equally admiring throng had gathered at the town hall, where Vincent was to be in command.

"I wish we'd get a big fire now," said one small lad, as he patted the big copper cylinder.

"Hold on, little man!" exclaimed Mr. Bergman. "We didn't get the engines for that. I haven't gotten over the scare about my lumber yard yet. Wait a bit, before you wish for a fire."

"I—I meant a bon-fire." replied the little fellow.

"Oh—that! Well, maybe we'll have one at the picnic."



CHAPTER XVIII

THE PARADE AND PICNIC

Announcement was made next day, by Mr. Bergman, that the new fire department, of which he was considered the patron, would have a grand parade and picnic in about a week. Members of the fire fighting organizations of neighboring towns were to be asked to take part, and there would be competitive drills, sports and games.

The people of Lakeville hardly knew what to think. So many things had taken place in the last few months that the town seemed like a person awaking from a long sleep, and finding himself in a new place.

"Lakeville is certainly improving," remarked Mr. Appelby to a group of men in the post-office one day, as they were reading the notice about the parade and picnic.

"That's what it is," added Mr. Charles Daven, the aged postmaster and a justice of the peace. "Why there's been more mail come to this here office in the last two weeks than in two months afore."

"How do you account for that?" asked Mr. Appelby.

"Why nearly every resident has written to some friend, tellin' of the new engines an' fire department, an' the pussons has writ back, askin' how we done it. I know, 'cause lots of 'em writ on postal cards, an' I read 'em. I read all th' postals you know," he went on, as if that was his privilege, "only now there's gittin' to be so much mail, I don't half finish with 'em, 'fore some pusson comes in an' takes 'em away. But business is certainly improvin' wonderful."

"And the taxes will go up likewise," added Mr. Sagger with a scowl.

"Not on account of the fire department," declared the mayor. "That hasn't cost the town a cent. Mr. Bergman footed the bills."

"But it will in time. He ain't going to live forever."

"Well, the town ought to be glad to pay 'em in a few years. More folks will come to live here if we have good protection from fire, and if the village gets bigger the taxes will be less."

"Well, I ain't going to pay any more," declared the miserly butcher.

Preparations for the picnic went on rapidly. Tillman's grove was on the edge of the lake, about three miles from Lakeville, and social gatherings were frequently held there in the summer time.

It was planned that the new fire department would parade through the town, hauling the chemical engines with them, go out to the grounds and there take part in a competitive drill which Mr. Bergman had arranged with the assistance of Bert and Vincent, and the chiefs of some nearby departments.

In order that there would be protection to Lakeville, in case a fire should occur during the picnic, Constable Stickler was to be left on guard part of the day, and a man would relieve him at a certain hour, so that the old official might see part of the fun. In case of a fire, a messenger was to be dispatched on horseback, to summon the department.

It was also planned to have the old hand engine in the parade, some of the smaller boys begging for the privilege of hauling this, a request which was quickly granted by Bert and his chums.

"Going to parade, Moses?" asked Mr. Appelby of the butcher, the evening before the day of the picnic.

"Parade? Not much! I wouldn't be seen with them whipper-snappers of boys."

"Well, those boys are all right, let me tell you. If it hadn't been for Herbert Dare and his crowd, Lakeville wouldn't have a fine fire department to-day, and your shop would be down to the ground. And another thing, insurance is less. I renewed mine to-day, and the agent said he could give me a lower rate, as the risk of loss from fire was less now that we had two good chemical engines."

"If we had enlarged the bucket brigade it would have done just as well, and saved a lot of money," declared the butcher.

"Oh, nonsense. You're an old fossil, Moses. Why Lakeville amounts to something to-day. Jamesville folks can't laugh at us any longer for not having an engine. I'm proud to live in Lakeville, and I didn't use to be. Guess I'll run for mayor again."

"I thought you said you wasn't going to," said Mr. Sagger quickly, as he knew he was pretty sure of the nomination, if the genial Mr. Appelby, whom everyone liked, did not enter the contest.

"Well, I've changed my mind. It's an honor to be mayor of a town with a good fire department."

Mr. Sagger said nothing, but he thought much.

No one could have wished for a better day than that of the parade and picnic. It was a trifle warm, but it would be cool in the grove near the lake. The boys were up early, attired in their new uniforms, and after an early breakfast headed for one or the other of the two engine quarters.

The two machines were polished so one could see his face in them. There had been but one fire since they arrived, and that was a small one in an old shed. The engine in Cole's barn had been used to put out the blaze, and the quick manner in which it accomplished the task showed the boys of what sort of work the chemical was capable.

The other machine was as untried as the day it came off the train, but it was known to be in good working order. It was planned to have a drill between the two Lakeville companies, to see which could quickest get to a fire from a certain spot, and the one which won in that contest, would enter another in which would compete the departments from Jamesville, Weedsport and Northville Centre. A prize of a silver trumpet had been offered by Mr. Bergman for the company doing the best and quickest work.

At last all was in readiness for the parade. Mr. Bergman had engaged a band, and, to the thrilling strains of a lively march, the two chemical companies, with their machines, and the younger boys, in charge of the old hand engine, stepped out, and began a tour of the town.

How proud the lads were in their gay uniforms! It was the first time they had all been together, and the bright sunshine illuminating their ranks, and reflecting from the polished surfaces of the engines, made a picturesque scene.

Herbert Dare led his company in front, and behind him came fifteen boys, dragging on the long rope. In the rear of the engine came five other lads, armed with axes and long hooks, which were part of the new equipment.

In the second division was Vincent and his company, while at the rear brought up the smaller boys with the hand engine. Altogether it made a fine showing for Lakeville.

After marching through the principal streets of the town, and being admired by the throngs that gathered, the young firemen set off for the picnic ground. Thither, also, went most of the inhabitants of Lakeville, for it was a chance that might never come again, and everyone who could, took advantage of it.

"Whew! But it's hot!" exclaimed Cole, who was marching along beside Bert, no particular formation being maintained on the road to the grounds.

"You'll be cooler pretty soon," consoled the young chief. "I wonder if we can beat those fellows?" he added, referring to the members of the other fire companies.

"I'm not afraid of the Northville Centre bunch," declared Cole, "but Jamesville is a different proposition. The chief there is a hustler, and I understand they are pretty quick. They've had lots of practice."

"So have we."

"But not with the chemical engines."

"Oh, well, I guess we can make out pretty well. Thank goodness, there's the grove. I'm almost melted."

The boys found a goodly crowd already assembled. The Jamesville fire department had arrived, and they greeted the Lakeville boys with cheers. Soon after this the Weedsport and Northville Centre contingents arrived.

Mr. Bergman had named a committee to see after the sports and games, and the members of this soon had things going. There were running races, walking matches, jumping contests, wheelbarrow and bag races, and tied-leg races, wherein two men, with their inner legs strapped together, did almost everything but run.

But what everyone was anxiously looking forward to were the fire drills. Though the boys of Lakeville took part in the other games, winning some of the contests, they waited with impatience for the main items on the program.

Very realistic contests had been arranged. In a big field, adjoining the grove, Mr. Bergman had caused to be erected six small sheds, constructed of old lumber, and filled with empty packing boxes. To make the fire burn more fiercely kerosene oil had been poured over the boxes.

The idea was to let the two companies of Lakeville have a chance first to see what they could do in the way of putting out a fire. They were to start from the same place, race toward the burning shacks, and the company which first put out the blaze was to be declared the winner. Then a four-cornered contest, among the Jamesville, Weedsport and Northville Centre firemen, and the winner of the Lakeville event, would strive for the honor of carrying home the silver trumpet.

When all was in readiness, with the two divisions of the Lakeville boys lined up at their respective machines, Mr. Bergman set fire to two of the shacks. In an instant they were enveloped in flames. Waiting until the fire was at its height, Mr. Bergman gave the word to start.

"Now, boys!" cried Bert to his men. "Show 'em how we do it!"

"Run! Run!" yelled Vincent, to his lads, "We want the chance to compete in the finals!"

With a rumble of the big wheels over the rough ground, the two chemical engines were hauled toward the blazes.



CHAPTER XIX

WINNING THE TRUMPET

Bert gave his lads the order to halt, when the engine was about fifty feet away from the burning shacks.

"Run out the hose!" he called to Tom Donnell. "The rest of you stand ready with the hooks, and, as soon as Tom has got her pretty near out, pull the boards apart so he can get out the last spark."

Quickly was the hose unreeled. Bert stood near the engine, ready to swing the lever and turn the valve wheel that would send the hot sulphuric acid into the soda water. Then, when there was a good head of gas accumulated in the cylinder, he would open another valve, and the fire-quenching fluid would spurt from the hose.

There was a hiss as the breaking of the glass holding the vitriol was followed by the instant generation of gas.

"Here she comes!" cried Bert, as he turned the valve.

A second later a white, foamy stream jetted from the nozzle, and sprayed into the midst of the blaze. The flames began to die down as if by magic.

But Vincent was not a second behind Bert in getting his machine into operation.

"Lively, boys!" he cried, and the hose was unreeled, the stream playing almost at the same instant as was Bert's.

The spectators set up a cheer. This was something few of them had seen. The chemical engines were proving what they could do. Whether the blaze at which Vincent's crew directed their stream was not as fierce as the other was not disclosed, but in spite of the fact that Bert's engine was the first in operation by a narrow margin, the blaze Vincent was fighting began to die down quicker.

"We'll win!" cried Vincent. "Our fire's out, and theirs is blazing good yet!"

A few seconds later, however, Tom Donnell had succeeded in taming the last of the leaping flames.

"Now, boys, tear her apart!" ordered Bert, and the lads with the long hooks began scattering the still glowing embers of the boards that had formed the shack. As soon as they did so, parts of the shed not touched by the chemical, began to blaze.

"Douse her, Tom!" cried the young chief, and Tom did so with good effect.

Meanwhile Vincent's crowd, thinking they had put their fire out, had turned away, while Vincent shut off the valve that controlled the outlet from the tank. No sooner had this been done than the fire in their shack blazed up again.

"Look!" cried John Boll, one of Vincent's crew.

"Turn on the stream!" shouted several of the lads. Vincent tried to do so, but before he could work it the shack was blazing again, almost as fiercely as before. He had been too confident that the fire was out.

By the time he got his stream to spurting again, Bert had the other fire completely out, so that only a little steam came from the pile of blackened embers.

"We win!" cried Cole Bishop.

"Yes, I guess you do," assented Mr. Bergman, who was the umpire. "I'll have to award you the decision. Now, Bert, fill your tank again, and get ready for the real contest, which will take place in about an hour."

"I'm glad you won, Bert," said Vincent, generously, coming over, and shaking hands with the young chief.

"Thanks. You see I thought the blaze was smouldering under the wood, and I was ready for it."

"I'll be, next time. I hope you win the trumpet."

"Well, so do I, for the sake of Lakeville. But these other departments have had more practice than we have."

All the members of the Lakeville fire corps turned in to help get Bert's engine ready for the main contest of the day. The tank was refilled with soda water, and a new bottle of sulphuric acid put in the holder, for a supply of the chemicals had been brought along for that purpose.

The other companies were also preparing for the contest. The Jamesville crowd had an engine just like these which Mr. Bergman had purchased for Lakeville. The machines from Northville Centre and Weedsport were different, but worked on the same principle.

"Are you all ready?" asked Mr. Bergman, when the four companies were lined up on the edge of the wood, ready for the race to the shacks. The various chiefs answered that they were. The word was given to fire the sheds, and soon four clouds of black smoke were ascending to the sky, while the flames began to roar.

"Don't start until I give the word," cautioned Mr. Bergman. "I want the fires to get a good headway."

Anxiously the members of the four companies stood lined up, ready for the signal. Grouped around them was a big throng.

"Be ready to jump, boys," cautioned Bert, in a low voice to his lads. "But be careful not to stumble."

"We're all ready," replied Cole, looking back at the line of boys who grasped the rope.

The flames were crackling more loudly. Greater clouds of smoke from the burning oil rolled into the air. The heat from the blazing shacks could be felt some distance away.

"Why doesn't he give the word?" asked Tom Donnell, impatiently.

Members of the other companies were inquiring the same thing. Mr. Bergman stood with his watch in his hand. He looked at the four fires. Then he called:

"Get ready!"

The boys tightened their grip on the rope. They leaned forward, prepared to spring at the command.

"Go!" shouted the umpire, and the four companies were off as one.

Over the open field they dragged the engines, the big wheels rumbling like subdued thunder. The crowd began to cheer, men and boys calling to their favorite companies to beat in the race.

Nearer and nearer to the blazing shacks came the fire-fighters. The company from Northville Centre was slightly in the lead, for their engine was lighter, and there were a score of men on the rope. Next came the Lakeville lads, while those from Weedsport were in the rear.

Suddenly there sounded a crash, and Bert, turning his head, saw the foremost of the Weedsport men stumble. An instant later the engine, striking a rut, overturned, dragging the whole company down.

"That—puts—them—out—of—the—-race!" panted Cole, who, in spite of his fleshiness, was keeping well up with his companions. But he was beginning to get out of breath. "We've—got—a—better—chance—now," he said.

"Don't talk," advised Bert. "Save your breath for running, Cole."

Which advice the young engineer followed.

It was now an even race between the Lakeville, Jamesville and Northville Centre departments. The members of the Weedsport crew were trying to right their engine.

"They've—got—her—up! They're—coming!" spoke Cole, as he looked back to see how their unfortunate adversaries fared. The three contestants were now about as close as they dared go to the blazes.

"Never mind them! We've got our own work cut out for us!" cried Bert. "Unreel, boys! I'll give you the stream as soon as you're ready!"

"Give it to us now!" cried Cole, quickly. "Turn the valve, Bert. The hose and nozzle will stand the pressure, and hold it back until we need it. Maybe we can beat 'em that way, for it will be there waiting for us."

Bert was a little doubtful, but he knew Cole was an authority on hose and nozzles. So, before the line was unreeled he had burst the sulphuric acid bottle, and the hissing within the tank told him the gas was beginning to generate.

"Come on, boys!" cried Cole, who, with Tom Donnell and several others, was pulling the long snake-like line of rubber toward the blaze which had been assigned to them to extinguish.

Cole's forethought proved successful. By the time the Lakeville boys were at the fire, the fluid had filled the hose, and was ready to spurt out of the nozzle. The others had waited until the hose was fully unreeled before putting the apparatus in operation.

"First stream!" yelled Cole with delight, as he saw the whitish fluid spurting toward the blaze.

They beat the other two companies by at least half a minute, and seconds count in these fire department contests.

But the fight was only begun. So fiercely were the shacks blazing that it seemed as if a big stream of water was needed to extinguish them. The small chemical ones did not appear adequate. But it was science triumphing over matter.

In less than a minute there was noticed a lessening in the power of all three blazes. The fourth one, assigned to the unfortunate Weedsport department, was going fiercely. But, with a shout, the members of that department, having righted their engine, which was only slightly damaged, rushed it up, and were soon playing a stream on the miniature conflagration.

"Well done!" shouted Bert, in praise of a gallant foe, and the chief of the Weedsport department acknowledged the compliment with a salute.

But the real contest was now among the Lakeville, Jamesville and Northville Centre crews. The two latter had taken a lesson from Bert's first contest, and had men ready with hooks to tear the piles apart as soon as chance offered.

This opportunity soon came, as the flames began to die down under the influence of the powerful gas.

"Tear it up, boys!" cried Bert, and, as his lads rushed forward, the men from the other departments did likewise. Once more the flames leaped up, as fresh material was thus made available, but the chemical streams made short work of them.

Misfortune seemed to follow the Weedsport department, for, when they had somewhat subdued their fire, something went wrong with their engine. No more fluid issued from the hose, and, with an explosion like that of a gun, the safety valve of the cylinder blew out, and the stream began spurting from the back.

"There's no fire there!" shouted the crowd, laughing at the bad luck of the Weedsport crew.

"Too bad, old man!" called Bert in sympathy.

"If he had my force-pump here, he could put out that fire yet," said Cole. "I wish our boys would run out the old hand-engine."

And that is exactly what the smaller lads did, at the suggestion of Mr. Bergman. He saw that the Weedsport department could do no more, and, as the water tank of the hand-engine had been filled, he thought of giving the smaller lads a chance to demonstrate what they could do. They rushed out, and soon had the blaze well in hand.

Meanwhile, the now triple-cornered contest was almost over. The three blazes were dying down. The lead which Bert and his lads had secured at the start, stood them in good stead. In a few minutes more, and just as the chemical in the tank began to give out, for Bert had, in the excess of his zeal, turned on full power, the blaze was extinguished. But, in the other two shacks, there were still signs of flames.

"Take up!" cried the chief, in his most professional voice.

The boys began to reel back the hose.

"Lakeville wins!" called the umpire of the contest.

"Hurrah! Three cheers for Lakeville!" yelled the crowd, and Bert and his lads blushed with pleasure, for they had won the silver trumpet.



CHAPTER XX

A FALSE ALARM

What a demonstration awaited the victors when they trundled their engine back to the grove! It seemed that every man from Lakeville wanted to shake hands with the boys.

"You've done the town more good than if you gave it a marble monument!" exclaimed Mayor Appelby, enthusiastically, as he greeted Herbert. "You've woke our sleepy village up, and I look for better times now. I'm going to run for mayor again. It's an honor."

"We'll see who'll be mayor," murmured Moses Sagger, who had come to the picnic after all. "If them boys think they can run things they'll find themselves very much mistaken."

The other engine companies, now that the fires were out, returned to the grove. They gathered around Bert and his lads, while Mr. Bergman, with a neat little speech, presented the young chief with a handsome silver trumpet.

"And while I wish you all success," he said in conclusion, "I also hope that through this trumpet you may give the order 'Take up' as quickly at every fire which occurs in Lakeville, as you did it to-day in this contest. You boys certainly worked fast, and I believe the 'devouring element,' as the poets call it, will take a back seat, now that we have such an efficient department to handle our two chemical engines."

"Hurrah for Lakeville!" yelled half a hundred voices.

"Three cheers for Mr. Bergman!" shouted others.

"Three cheers for the boys with the hand engine!" proposed Bert, for he wanted to encourage the little chaps.

"They couldn't have put that fire out if it hadn't been for my force- pump!" murmured Cole, amid the cheers that followed.

"Say, if you mention force-pump again to-day," threatened Tom Donnell, "we'll stand you up in front of it, and douse you good."

"Well, it's a fine pump," retorted Cole, taking care to get beyond Tom's reach.

There was more cheering and applause, the unfortunate Weedsport crew being given an extra cheer to make up for the bad luck it had encountered.

There were more games, a great dinner, some speech-making by the men, additional athletic contests among the firemen, and the picnic was brought to a close.

"Line up, Lakeville!" cried Herbert, through his trumpet. The boys manned the ropes of the three engines, including the old hand affair. They made a brilliant picture in their red shirts, blue trousers and shining helmets, and Bert proudly carried the glistening trophy where it would show to the best advantage.

With final cheers for each other the four fire departments separated, to march to their respective villages. It had been a great day, and, as Mr. Bergman had said, Lakeville had taken several steps forward in the way of progress.

"Well, we didn't do so bad," remarked Vincent to Bert, as they were on their way along the home road.

"No," replied the young chief, "but there's one thing we've got to look out for."

"What's that?"

"We must not use so much of the solution out of the tank. A small stream will do as much work, and it will last longer."

"That's so. We can't fill the tanks up very well while a fire is in progress."

"That's it. This afternoon, if the blaze had lasted a few minutes longer, there wouldn't have been any chemicals to squirt on it. It was my fault. I opened the valve too wide. We must remember that when we have a real fire."

As the young firemen entered the village, many, who had been to the picnic, but had come home early, crowded out to see them. The bells on the three engines clanged out in peals of victory, and when Bert started up a song, his comrades joined in with him.

As the two companies separated, one to go to the town hall, and the other to Cole's barn, a man stepped from the crowd, and approached Bert.

"Well, I see you won," he remarked pleasantly, and the young chief, looking up, saw the tramp he had rescued from the water.

"Yes. Were you there?"

"I saw the final contest. Couldn't get away to spend the whole day, though I would have liked to. I had to work."

"Where are you working? In town here?" asked Bert, for he was quite interested in the young man.

"Yes, I'm employed at the Stockton mansion."

"At the Stockton mansion?" repeated Bert, greatly surprised. What he had heard regarding that mysterious house came freshly to his mind. "Why, I didn't know there was any business being done there, Mr.—er— Mr. ah—"

He paused, for it just occurred to him that he did not know the tramp's name.

The tramp—no, we shall call him that no more, for he was no longer of that class—the man, then, smiled.

"Decker is my name," he said. "Mortimer Decker, though most of my friends—what few I have left—call me Mort. As I consider you a friend of mine, you may do so, Herbert. You see I know your name, for you're sort of a public character."

"I don't know about that, but I'm glad you've gotten a place, Mort."

"Yes, after my little experience in the brook I decided to get some work to do here if possible. I heard that the man who lived in that big mansion was rich, and I thought he might want a private secretary, or a stenographer and typewriter. I learned who lived there, but when I inquired at the place an old woman said Mr. Stockton had gone away."

"I believe he has, but there seems to be something queer about it," said Bert. "No one saw him go, and, though he never used to be seen much around the village, still we did have occasional glimpses of him. Now no one has seen him for some time."

"So it appears. But the old woman—Blarcum, she said her name was— called a young man to talk to me. He was Alfred Muchmore, Mr. Stockton's nephew, and, after I had told him what I could do, he engaged me."

"I didn't think he had any work you could do," said Bert, recalling the rumor he had heard, that Muchmore was a professional gambler.

"Well, he has quite a lot of business papers to copy, and I am doing that for him. He pays me well. Still, I can't say that I altogether like the place."

"Why not?"

Mort Decker came closer to Herbert, though no one was then near them, the boys of the department being too interested in cleaning the engine, refilling it, and putting it in the barn, to pay attention to anything else.

"There's something queer about that house," said Mort in a whisper.

"Queer? How do you mean?"

"Well, Muchmore seems afraid that I will go into some rooms where I have no business. Once I was going down a long corridor, when he called me back, and said those were his private apartments, and no one was allowed there. Then, again, I was just going into a room that the old housekeeper said contained fine paintings, for I am very fond of pictures, but Mr. Muchmore thrust me back, and seemed quite excited. Then, too, the housekeeper seems very much afraid of the young nephew. I believe there is some secret connected with that house."

"So do I," declared Bert, and he told Mort of his experience when the fire had occurred.

"I'll keep my eyes open, and see if I can learn anything," promised the stenographer. "If I hear anything I'll let you know. I can't invite you to call and see me, for I'm afraid Muchmore wouldn't like it. But the first chance I get I'll come down and see you."

"I wish you would," replied Bert. "You'll generally find me at one of the engine houses, at least until school opens. Then I've got to begin my studies again."

"Well, good-bye," said Mort, as he left, while Bert went to the barn, to see that the chemical tank was properly filled, in readiness for an alarm.

As yet, beyond the one blaze in a small shed in the village, the engines had not been tested at a real fire, nor had the new alarm system been called on to show how much of an aid it was in enabling the department to respond quickly. Several boxes had been installed in different parts of the town, all running to the two fire-houses, as the basement of the town hall and Cole's barn were designated. By means of a simple switchboard arrangement, and a code of signals, given on a gong, it could be told at once which box was pulled. In addition the new bell on the tall steel tower would ring an alarm to awaken those members of the department who were asleep at home.

There was a short meeting of the fire department one night, in Cole's barn, where various matters were talked over, and the boys had not dispersed more than an hour, when there sounded an alarm from the tower. At the same time there rang out on the apparatus in Cole's barn, the number of a box located near the Stockton mansion.

"There's another fire at the house of mystery," cried Cole, for the boys had given the mansion that designation. "Come on, fellows. Let's see if we can't do better this time than we did with our hand engine."

While he was speaking he was drawing on his rubber boots, for, like his companions, he had gotten ready for bed. Before the alarm had ceased ringing (for it sounded the box number automatically four times, once it was started) the engine was being pulled out of quarters.

There were only eight boys on duty in the barn, and the task of pulling the heavy engine up the hill to the Stockton mansion was not easy. But, before they were half way there, they were met by several of their comrades, who grabbed the rope.

"Come on! Come on!" yelled Bert, who was among the first to arrive from home. "Don't let the fire get too much of a start!"

They toiled on, and, as they rounded a and came in sight of the big house, there was not a sign of fire.

"That's queer," remarked the young chief. "I wonder if there's something wrong with the signal apparatus."

"What's the matter, boys? Out for a practice drill?" asked a voice, and Herbert and his chums saw, in the glare from the lamps on the engine, Mr. Alfred Muchmore coming out of the driveway that led to the big house.

"We came in response to a fire alarm," said Bert, "but I don't see any blaze."

"Blaze? There isn't any. I don't understand it. I don't want you boys around here. You'd better leave."

That was rather queer, coming from a man to whom they expected to be of service. Bert and his chums were puzzled.

"False alarm! False alarm!" suddenly yelled a voice from the bushes that lined the roadway. "I sent it in, you old miser, to get even with you! Maybe you'll say 'Thanks' next time, Mr. Muchmore, when we put out a real fire in your place," and a lad, whom Bert recognized as rather an undesirable character about the village, dashed from the shrubbery, and ran off down the road, laughing at the trick he had played.



CHAPTER XXI

THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE

The unexpected announcement by the daring lad, of what he had done, was a surprise to both Mr. Muchmore and the members of the fire department.

"So, this is a trick by one of you young rascals, is it?" asked the rich man's nephew. "I shall take action against you for this. The road you are on is private property, and I shall have you arrested if you do not, at once, cease from trespassing on it. Get out of here with your noisy apparatus!"

"Mr. Muchmore," said Bert firmly, "you are mistaken when you think that our fire department had anything to do with this false alarm. We regret it as much as you do. We came here because we believed there was a fire. The box located near here was pulled."

"I shall take steps to see that it is not rung again. I shall have it removed," said the man. "Now I order you to clear out!"

"We will," replied the young chief, "but I want to say that no member of our department had anything to do with annoying you."

"You heard what that young rascal said. That he did it to pay me for not thanking you boys for what you did at the other fire. That was an oversight. I was too excited, I suppose, but that is hardly an excuse for disturbing me in this way."

"Mr. Muchmore," exclaimed Bert, "the boy who sent in the false alarm is not a member of our department. He never was, though he might have helped at the other fire."

"Well, it seems strange that I can't live here in peace and quietness, without being annoyed by a lot of boys," retorted Muchmore. "Perhaps you knew nothing of the false alarm—"

"I assure you we did not. We don't care enough about this long run uphill to undertake it on a false alarm," declared Bert.

"That's right," added Cole.

"Very well, then you had better go down. As for that boy who pulled the box, I shall take steps to have him arrested."

"If you will, you would be doing us a service," replied Bert. "We don't want false alarms to be sent in, and if that boy—Chester Randel is his name—finds out he is liable to arrest, it may serve as a warning to others."

"I'll see about it," and, without thanking the boys for their promptness in coming to put out a possible fire, Muchmore turned back, and went up the private driveway to the big house, that stood dark and silent on the hill.

"This is one on us," remarked Cole, as he helped to drag the engine around. "I'd like to wallop Chester."

"So would I," declared Bert. "Mr. Muchmore will attend to him, though, I guess."

"Muchmore needs someone to attend to him, too," remarked Tom Donnell. "He's as cross as a couple of sour apple trees. I guess if the house had been on fire he'd have been only too glad to see us."

Still the boys did not so much mind their useless run, as they were so enthusiastic over their engine and the new department that it had not yet become an old story to them.

"We were in need of a little practice, anyhow," remarked Bert, as they backed the engine into the barn. The second apparatus had not responded, though the boys were in readiness to run it out in case a call came for them.

When he got back home that night Herbert was racking his brains over the mystery that seemed to surround the Stockton mansion. That there was something queer going on within its walls he was positive. What he had seen, Muchmore's queer actions, his fear of something being discovered, and what Mort Decker had told him, convinced Bert that very unusual proceedings must be taking place in the silent house on the hill.

"Mr. Stockton ought to be informed," he said. "I wonder if I couldn't send a letter to him? I've a good notion to make some inquiries at the post-office."

He did, the next day. As he entered the post-office he saw that Mr. Daven was busy reading some postal cards.

"Ah, how d'ye do, Bert?" he greeted, for he had a kindly feeling for the lad, who, in a measure, was responsible for the awakening of the town. "How's the fire business?"

"Pretty good. We had a run for nothing last night."

"I heard about that. Up to the Stockton mansion. Yes, I may have to take official action on it."

"How's that?"

"Why, Mr. Muchmore was in here a while ago. He came to see me in my official capacity as justice of the peace, and not postmaster. He wanted a warrant for the arrest of Chester Randel, and I made out one. The next thing is to arrest that good-for-nothing lad, but he's like a flea, I never can catch him when I want him. I've got another warrant for him too."

"What's that for?"

"Oh, he robbed Deacon Stanton's apple orchard. Not that taking apples is such a crime, but the deacon insisted on a warrant, and I had to make one out."

"Are you going to arrest Chester?"

"If I can catch him, but I'm so busy with mail lately that I ain't got much time to arrest anybody. 'Pears everybody is sending out souvenir postals, with pictures of the new engines on 'em, and it takes a lot of time to read and sort 'em."

An enterprising stationer in town had ordered a supply of postals made, with pictures of the new fire apparatus, and he sold quite a number. Bert thought the postmaster's talk gave him a good opening to ask certain questions.

"I wonder if Mr. Stockton knows about our new department?" he said. "I'd like to send him one of those postals, though I don't really know him very well. Still, I think he would be interested. Do you know his address?"

"No, Bert, I don't."

"I heard he had gone to Europe."

"Maybe he has, but I can't say."

"Do you get any letters for him?"

"Yes, quite a few."

"Then don't you forward them?"

"No, for I don't know where to send them. Besides, that nephew of his calls for the mail, and takes the letters addressed to Mr. Stockton, as well as his own. I don't believe Mr. Stockton is in Europe."

"Then where is he?"

"That's more than I know, Bert. It's something I don't have time to bother about, with the increase in the mail, and my eyesight getting poorer and poorer each day. I can't read as many postals as I used to."

"Then if I wrote a letter to Mr. Stockton, you don't think he'd get it?"

"I don't know. I do know that Muchmore would get it first. Maybe he forwards his uncle's mail."

"I don't believe I'll write any letter then," thought Bert. "I have nothing only suspicions, at best. I think something wrong is going on at that house, but I can't prove it. I think Mr. Stockton ought to know about it, but I don't see any way of informing him. I wish I could have a talk with Mort Decker. Maybe he has found out something."