CHAPTER XIII
SINGING A DIFFERENT TUNE
From various directions came running the young members of thevolunteer fire department. The bucket brigade was also on hand, andhad formed a line from the town pump, which stood near the store, asclose to the burning shop as they dared to go. The whole interiorseemed a mass of flames.
"Where will we get water?" shouted Cole to Bert, who had arrived onthe run.
"Back the engine down to the brook!" cried the young captain. "Isn'tthe 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 andchoking, because of the burning meats and fats, that it was impossibleto 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 weback the engine!"
It was rather hard work to push the clumsy machine down through theyard of the house adjoining the butcher shop, to where the brookflowed back of the store. But it was accomplished by the boys unaided,for the men were busy trying to find some means of using theirbuckets.
"Dip and fill!" cried Bert, as the corps of pail handlers lined upfrom the engine to the brook.
Water began to splash into the tank and soon there was enough to beginpumping. Up and down went the long handles, impelled by the sturdyarms of ten boys.
"Wait!" cried Cole. "You're not using my force pump. Somebody take thehose. 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 Colehad attached to his beloved pump, he started toward the burningbutcher shop.
The young firemen soon found they had all they could do in quenchingthis 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 everyfew minutes, and Bert was kept busy making shifts from the bucketcorps 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. Cloudsof steam arose as the fluid fell on the hot embers.
"Can't you throw any more water on?" demanded Mr. Sagger, whocontinued to run up and down in front of his place, deploring hisloss.
"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 sufferlosses by fire. What we need is a regular department here, with asteam 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 hewishes we had two volunteer departments now."
It seemed as if the whole shop must go. The fire, as they learnedlater, had started in the sawdust packing of the ice box, and it hadbeen smouldering for some time before being discovered. Then, with thesawdust and pine wood to feed on, in addition to the fat meats, theflames 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 differentfrom what it had been at the Stockton.
"We're doing our best, Mr. Sagger," replied the young captain. "It's ahard fire to fight. The bucket brigade could come up closer now, theflames aren't quite so hot."
"That's so. I'll tell 'em." He ran to where the members of thedepartment to which he belonged were futilely passing buckets ofwater.
"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. "Youain't doing anything but running up and down."
"I'll help," declared Mr. Sagger. "I declare, I don't know what I amdoing! This will be a heavy loss to me!"
"I guess you can stand it," murmured Mr. Lampert. "You got lots ofmoney salted down, same as you have your pork."
"Come on, help me save the shop!" cried the butcher, and his fellowmembers of the bucket brigade followed him.
Fortunately, there was not much meat in the ice box, and when it hadall 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 andthat dashed on by the men, who could now approach quite close, had itseffect. In a little while the fire was about out, and Bert ordered theboys to use only one line of hose, which made it easier on the pumpersand bucket lads. Then, with a final hiss and splutter, the fire diedaway.
"It's a terrible loss!" declared the butcher, as he contemplated theruins 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'lllose until I can build a new shop!"
"Oh, I guess you can put up some kind of a shack that will do for awhile. We don't need much meat in the summer time."
"I tell you what it is!" exclaimed Mr. Sagger, "we've got to have aregular department, mayor; that's what we have! We can't have businessplaces 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 thebutcher. "Taxes is high enough now. Maybe we could get an enginecheap, 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 watchedthe lads, under Bert's direction, take up their hose and get theengine in shape for returning to quarters. "I guess old Sagger isafraid his taxes will go up. But we do need a regular department," headded to himself.
As Bert was getting the boys together to haul the engine back to thebarn, 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 fromthe 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 didme good. I did some odd jobs for the farmers around here, and myhealth 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 savedup, 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, whoseappearance had improved considerably since the brook episode, was lostin the throng.
"That's queer," thought Bert. "I wonder who in this town would want astenographer and typewriter?"