Step’s long legs carried him over the ground at a great rate, but Poke
did not fall far behind, when the chums started to rouse the people
of the settlement near the pavilion. They hurried through the woods,
reached the road which wound round the end of the lake, and came
presently to a farmhouse, which, naturally enough at that hour, was as
dark as the trees before it.
Step unhesitatingly turned in at the gate, and steered for the front
door. As his hand touched the old-fashioned brass knocker, however, he
heard a savage growl and then a warning cry from Poke, as a big dog
came bounding from the shadows near the barn.
Step gave one lusty stroke with the knocker, then sprang aside to avoid
the dog’s charge. He took a vigorous kick at the animal, which swerved
in time to avoid harm, but also missed its mark; for though it snapped
viciously at the boy’s leg, the big teeth failed to meet in his flesh.
Step retreated from the porch, and Poke, picking up a stone--luckily he
had halted in the roadway--threw it with so sure an aim that the dog
yelped with pain, and marking that these were adversaries not to be
attacked recklessly, began to bound about Step, barking furiously.
So far as awakening the occupants of the house was concerned, the
performance was a great success. Up went a window; a head protruded; a
voice spoke wrathfully:
“Clear out, you vagabones! What you mean by skulkin’ around at this
time o’ night? Get along with you, or I’ll set the dog on you!”
“Huh! You don’t need to set him on us--he’s a self-starter, all right!”
retorted Poke; but Step achieved practical results.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
The head protruded farther from the window.
“Fire? Whereabouts?”
“In the woods--beyond the lake! We saw it, and tried to stop it, but
it’s too big for us.”
Down went the window with a bang. There was a moment’s delay. The dog,
apparently regarding the affair as taken over by higher authority,
was content to snarl and circle Step at a respectful distance. Then
the door opened, and a man came out, pulling on a coat as he came. He
strode to higher ground beyond the house, turned toward the lake, and
uttered a startled exclamation.
The messengers had followed him to the knoll. There they had a first
view of the extent of the fire. The glare seemed to light the whole sky
to the west. Here and there the flames were in full sight, while above
them were rolling masses of smoke.
“Gee-whittaker! Spreadin’ like bad news and travelin’ like Sam Hill!
And with this wind blowin’----” The man broke off in mid-sentence;
whistled sharply; turned to the boys. “You two hustle along to the
cottages. Rout out everybody. And say! Tell ’em from me they’d better
get word to town. They’ve got telephones, and now’s the time to use
’em.”
With that the farmer started off, taking the road by which Step and
Poke had come; while they, in small need of the counsel he had given,
ran toward the pavilion.
The cottage settlement was grouped about the public building.
Altogether there were a score of houses, most of them now occupied for
the season; so that there promised to be men enough available to make a
considerable force of fire fighters. Taking a lesson from their recent
experience, the boys raised the cry of “Fire! Fire! Fire!” when they
neared the first of the cottages.
The response was prompt. For one thing, there was small need of
explanation of the alarm; for from the neighborhood of the pavilion
there was an unobstructed view of the opposite shore of the lake and
the extent of the fire’s spread. Already the flames were making a
wonderful spectacular display, which served as most effective warning
to the cottagers of the need of haste in forming their fire brigade.
It was almost like a warship’s crew obeying the call to quarters, so
hurriedly did every able-bodied man turn out for service. There was
some confusion, of course. Poke and Step found themselves in the middle
of a little crowd. Two or three were putting questions at once--and
not waiting for replies. Plainly, the cause of the fire or the precise
point of its beginning was of minor interest and importance, compared
with the present danger. There was aimless scurrying to and fro. In one
of the houses a woman began to shriek hysterically. Then rose a stern
voice of authority. The boys knew the voice. It was that of Mr. Zorn.
“Get axes and spades! Hogan, you’ve got a plow--load it in your light
wagon and hitch up on the jump! Mack, you do the same thing! And,
Ed!”--his voice rose sharply. “Ed, I say! Hang it! where is that boy?”
There was no reply. Apparently the younger Zorn was not present, nor
was his whereabouts known.
Again Mr. Zorn called, loudly and impatiently: “Ed! Ed! I want you!”
There was a brief silence. Then somebody had a suggestion to make:
“Reckon he’s started for the fire--boy fashion--got to see what’s
doing, you know.”
“Maybe he’s taken a boat and is crossing the lake,” somebody else
hazarded.
“I’ll go and see,” a third volunteered, and ran down to the shore. He
was back in a moment or two.
“There’s a boat missing,” he reported. “Likely’s not Ed’s off to see
the circus. And I don’t know but he had the right idea. Looks to me as
if the heft of the fire was straight across from here.”
“But the danger point for us is at the end of the lake,” Mr. Zorn
declared. “That’s the way the fire’ll work around--it won’t jump across
the pond. Wish I knew where that boy was, but--well, it’s our business
to get to business. Come on!”
Step plucked at his sleeve. “It’s an awfully big fire, sir. We thought
at first we could stop it, but we saw we were mistaken.”
Mr. Zorn peered at him. “You’re one of the crowd camping over there,
aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir--but we didn’t start the fire.”
“Umph! We’ll have to look into that part of it later on. Meant to look
you over, but kept putting it off. Now it’s too late.”
He was moving away, but again Step stopped him. “It’s a big fire, an
awfully big fire. And it’s getting bigger and bigger all the while.
Maybe you’ll need to get help from outside--all the help you can raise.”
Mr. Zorn studied the opposite shore and the fiery picture it presented.
The trees close to the water made a dark fringe, through which he
had glimpses of the glare of flames, even where the fire itself had
not burned its way into clear view. And, as a matter of fact, it was
now showing in places which had been dark when the alarm roused the
settlement. He tried to gauge the rapidity of its spread; he made note
of the stiff breeze; he knew the tinder-like condition of the woods.
“Boy, you’re right,” he said curtly. “Man-size job this is going to
be--big enough for all the men we can raise.” He turned to the group.
“Jim, you’ve got a telephone in your house. Call up the fire department
in town, and tell the chief we want all the men he can send us. He’ll
know what apparatus would be of any use. And Joe Briggs!”
“Here!” said a voice.
“Joe, take my car! Go down the main road, and rout out the folks that
live along it. If you can get a load of huskies, with axes and spades,
turn around and bring ’em back, and have somebody else carry the call.
But until you get a load, keep on stirring ’em up yourself.”
“Right-o!” replied Joe Briggs, and ran toward the little garage behind
the Zorn house.
Between summer residents and workmen employed on the new buildings, the
volunteer fire brigade mustered more than a score of men by the time
late comers had joined the others. Altogether, it was a miscellaneously
garbed party, just as it was variously equipped for the task in hand.
There were men completely, if hastily, dressed; there were men in
strictly emergency outfits. Some carried spades or hoes; others had
axes. Half a dozen bore lanterns, the light of which revealed the odd
variety in the company’s costumes and fire fighting weapons. It was
evident, however, that a number knew well the business before them, and
it was a very practically efficient little force which Mr. Zorn headed.
Nobody paid much attention to Step and Poke. They had given the alarm
and roused the settlement, and there, seemingly, their function
ended. No guide was needed to find the fire or show the way to reach
it. Off marched the brigade, leaving the chums to follow as they
pleased. Neither of them, though, was in haste to go. Poke, peering
questioningly at Step, discovered that the latter was regarding him in
the same fashion.
“Well?” It was Step who spoke, a curious note in his voice.
“Oh, I’m wondering,” said Poke.
“Same here. And same wonder, I reckon.”
“If it’s about Ed Zorn--yes.”
“It’s about him, and about the boat. And I didn’t notice Jack Hagle,
either. But his folks are living out here, just as the Zorns are.”
“Exactly! And those two fellows would be likely to be together in
anything. And if they were out on the lake, they must have seen the
blaze long ago.”
“What reason would they have for being out at this hour?”
“Might be fishing for pout.”
“I don’t believe it!” Step declared.
“I didn’t say I believe it,” Poke pointed out. “It’s just a
possibility. But that isn’t the interesting thing, which is: If either
of those fellows--or both of them--saw the fire, why didn’t they
row in at once and notify their people? Something queer there, Step;
something queer!”
“You’ve said it!” cried Step, with conviction.
Obeying the same impulse, the two moved toward the shore. Across the
lake the flames were making a brilliant display, and the field of
illumination was extending far out over the surface. It was still a
shifting and uncertain light, smoke-dimmed at times and varying as the
wind fanned the fire, but, presently, it enabled them to make out a
floating object well out from the land.
“Hi! Look--straight out from us!” Poke exclaimed.
“I see it,” Step replied. “Boat, isn’t it?” “Guess it must be.”
“Umph! Then it’s queerer still.”
“What’s queerer?”
“That whoever’s in it didn’t give the alarm.”
Poke stared his hardest. “I’m not sure--I can’t make it out for
certain--but _is_ there anybody in that boat, anyway?”
“Give it up. Can’t tell from here.”
“Well, I’m going to find out,” said Poke, and ran to the water’s edge.
Two or three fishing punts were drawn up on the sand. Poke laid hands
on the nearest and with Step’s aid pushed it out until it was afloat.
Then both boys climbed aboard, and picked up the short oars lying in
the bottom of the boat. Five minutes’ work put them alongside the
drifting boat. Step caught its gunwale, and made as careful inspection
of the craft as was possible in the faint light.
“Umph! Nobody home!” he reported. “Oars laid across the thwarts.
Everything left in order; no water in the bottom. I don’t believe it’s
a case of anybody tumbling overboard.”
“By ‘anybody’ you mean Zorn?” said Poke.
“Of course.”
Poke took thought. “Looks to me as if he landed somewhere, and didn’t
make his boat secure. And the way the wind’s blowing--well, it’s easy
guessing her line of drift. But, I say, Step! What’s Zorn doing over on
our side at this time o’ night?”
“Let’s find out!” cried Step. With the painter of the punt in his
grasp he sprang into the other boat. “Come along, Poke! This’ll be
handier to row, and we’ll tow old Snub-Nose.”
Poke accepted the suggestion. “Where’ll we head for?” he asked as he
settled himself on a thwart.
The question was answered, but not by Step. From the shore came a hail,
quickly repeated.
The boys strained their ears.
“Sounds as if it came from near our camp,” Step asserted.
“And it sounds like Tom Orkney’s voice,” Poke added.
Step made swift survey. “Tell you what! Fire’s turned the ends of our
ditch--tent’s a goner!”
Poke nodded agreement. He could see that while the fire had not burned
through the timber clear to the shore, it was now very close, in
places, to the water’s edge. And one of these places, by his reckoning,
had been the site of the camp. He dipped his oar, and Step followed
suit. The towing line tautened. Even with the drag of the clumsy punt
the pair were able to make fair headway, so hard did they row and so
determinedly.
The voice that had hailed them began to give directions. “Pull with
your left!... There--that’s enough.... Left again!... Hold her
there!... Now a bit on the right--as you are, as you are! Steady,
steady--no hurry!... Right again! You fellows have got too much power
on one side.... That’s the ticket, and here you are! ’Vast rowing!”
Somebody caught the bow of the boat. Step and Poke turned on their
seats to behold Orkney, knee deep in the water, grinning at them.
There was a decided increase in the glare from the big fire, and they
could make out his face plainly. Back of him, on the sand, were the
Trojan and Herman Boyd, their arms full of blankets and other camping
paraphernalia.
“Saved what we could,” Orkney tersely explained. “Touch and go getting
what we did, at that.... What are you doing with two boats, though?
Never mind! The ark in back will do for the freight. Chuck the stuff
into her, fellows!”
The punt was drawn in and swiftly loaded. Then Orkney and his followers
joined Step and Poke in the lighter boat.
“You’ve stirred up the cottagers, of course?” said Tom.
“You bet we have!” Step declared. “We had ’em going, all right! And
they’ve sent on the alarm to town. Jiminy! but they’ll need everybody
they can call in from fifty miles around! But, I say! Where’s Sam?”
“He took the Shark and went scouting yonder,” Orkney answered.
Poke stood up in the boat. He peered long and anxiously at the shore.
“I should think Sam would be working back,” he remarked. “Fire looks as
if it was worse over that way. Those two fellows couldn’t fight that
sort of a whirl any more than they could fight the wind.”
“Right you are,” said Orkney soberly enough.
The boats had drifted away from the beach, and their passengers could
survey a wide stretch of burning woods. Nowhere had the fire quite
reached the water’s edge, but here and there it had drawn very near to
it. Moreover, such tremendous headway had been gained by the flames
that it was clear that the growth along the bank was doomed. Whatever
the fire-fighters might accomplish would have to be done at the ends of
the line.
“Sam and the Shark ought to be coming back,” Poke said nervously.
“I--I--what in the world do you suppose is keeping them?”
“Don’t know,” Orkney said shortly. “Course, they can swim for it--if
they have to. But what they’re up to----”
Step didn’t wait to hear the end of the sentence, but caught up his oar.
“Let’s meet ’em half-way.”
“Good scheme!” cried Poke, and dropped back on his thwart. “You steer,
Orkney,” he added. “The others can keep the sharpest kind of a lookout.”
With the punt dragging behind, the boat’s pace was very moderate.
Slow as it was, however, the voyagers cruised for perhaps half a mile
without gaining clew to the whereabouts of their missing friends. By
this time they had passed the limits of the fire.
Orkney’s face was very grave, indeed, as he guided the boat through
a half-circle, and the return trip was begun. The light was
strengthening; for now some of the trees overhanging the water were
ablaze.
“Keep your eyes peeled for swimmers!” he called to Herman and the
Trojan.
They nodded, but said nothing; and the boat moved slowly on. Step
and Poke were willing but not finished oarsmen; they splashed water
recklessly. The crackling flames were distinctly audible. For a little
these were the only sounds on lake or land. Then, of a sudden, there
was a shout from both lookouts, which seemed to be echoed from the
shore.
Orkney swung the boat’s head; the Trojan was pointing eagerly at
figures showing clearly on a sand spit, behind which brush was blazing
like a great torch.
“Sam and the Shark, both of ’em!” he exclaimed. Then his voice rose
shrilly in excitement and amazement. “Yes, Sam and the Shark, but
Jupiter Crickets! See who’re with ’em!”