Firebugs at Work!
At Joe's ominous words, Mr. Lewis leaped to his feet.
"Come on," he said in wild excitement. "We can't get there any too
quickly, for not only are the cars in danger but a satchel of valuable
papers as well."
"Something in connection with our expedition to Brazil?" asked Bob's
father, as he took second place in the race to the garage.
"Yes. They're very important. I should have taken them in the house at
once."
As they turned to look at the scene, a feeling of helplessness crept
over them, for already the blaze had leaped high in the air, and the
crackling sound told that the fire had made considerable headway.
Bob rushed into the house and telephoned the fire department. Then,
with Mrs. Lewis and Joe's sister, he moved back outside, to see that
the structure was blazing even higher.
Meanwhile the others had unlocked the doors and were inside, doing
their best to roll out the cars. But the smoke was so thick that they
were making little headway.
"Quick!" cried Mr. Holton. "Where are the keys, Ben?"
"I don't know. I--I can't seem to find them. Should be in my pocket.
No, guess I left them in the house."
The next instant he was gone, leaving his friends to survey the
situation more carefully.
"It strikes me," remarked Bob thoughtfully, "that if we wait for him
to return with the keys it will be too late."
"But what--how----" Mr. Holton stammered, but was interrupted by his
son.
"The only way that I can see is to break the glass in one of the
doors. Then we can get inside to release the emergency brake. How
about it?"
"I'd hate to do that, my boy. Yet there seems to be no other way out."
As Bob had stated, it was evident that if they were to wait for the
keys the cars would be badly burned. There was a possibility that the
gasoline tanks might even explode, for at intervals particles of
ignited timber fell from the blazing roof and missed them only a few
inches. Rapidly the flames crept downward. Already they were halfway
down the wall and moving like lightning. There was no time to lose.
Something must be done!
"Come on," Bob urged, entering the garage once more. "We must get
those cars out at any cost."
He looked about for some object with which he could break a glass, but
could see nothing.
"If there was only a board, or even----"
"Here," came from his father, moving on up with a sharp piece of
metal, "let me do it."
There was a crash, a splintering of glass, and the next moment Mr.
Holton was inside. It took but a second to release the parking brake,
and then the car rolled easily out of danger.
"There," panted the naturalist, rubbing his hand over his forehead.
"Now to get to the coupé."
Just then there came the sound of fire bells, and before they had
attended to the other car, several fire trucks pulled up in front of
the house. Their occupants were easily attracted to the scene of the
fire, and they lost no time in hurrying back.
"Quick!" yelled Joe, almost panic-stricken. "Let's get Dad's private
car out. The enamel is already off the left front fender."
Again Mr. Holton made use of the iron pipe, and the remaining
automobile was pushed out just in time to avoid a large section of the
roof that suddenly caved in.
"A narrow escape!" breathed Bob, stopping only for a moment to examine
the finish that had been slightly scorched.
"A very narrow one," returned Joe, as he thought of what would have
happened had the roof fallen on the top.
By now two lines of hose had been attached, and firemen were working
unflinchingly to check the cruel flames which, owing to a strong north
wind, were protruding several yards beyond the roof. Occasionally a
spark would fly over to the house, and this did not in the least
simplify the efforts of the fire fighters.
A large crowd had gathered to view the spectacle and included several
of Bob's and Joe's friends who lived near by.
"Some blaze, eh, fellows?" was the comment made by John Peterman, a
classmate in school.
"The biggest I've seen for an age," put in Tom Rogers, another friend.
"How'd it start?" asked another.
"Beyond us," answered Bob. "Do you have any idea, Joe?"
"No. I'm sure Dad wouldn't have left a cigar stub----"
"Impossible," his chum broke in, "for that blaze started on or near
the roof."
Mr. Lewis had now joined the others, and his delight was beyond words
when he saw that the cars had been removed in time to avert disaster.
"I kept thinking that I could find the key," he said. "I finally did,
but not in time to save them."
Gradually the flames were diminishing, and if the firemen kept up the
good work it promised to be over in a short time.
"Good thing that your garage is quite a distance over," remarked Joe
to his friend. "One is bad enough without having two on fire."
Finally the last blaze was extinguished amid a rousing cheer from the
crowd, and, after closer examination inside, the firemen left the
scene, and the crowd gradually thinned until no one was left but Bob,
Joe, their fathers, and a few neighbors.
"Covered by insurance, isn't it?" inquired Bob of Mr. Lewis, as they
cast a resentful look at the charred beams of the structure that had
once been a fine garage.
"Yes, but this may delay our expedition to Brazil for a week or two
until I can look after the reconstruction of it. That is"--he glanced
at Mr. Holton--"unless your father objects."
"Not in the least," came from that individual. "In fact," he went on,
"that is about the only way out."
Bob and Joe walked into the burned building. All about were
ashes--ashes that had once been the roof of the structure. The
charcoal smell was strong about them.
"Don't know where we'll keep the cars tonight," said Joe, glancing up
through the hole in the roof.
"Guess we can find room in our garage," his friend replied. "We only
have the one car, and it doesn't take up all the room by any means."
"Awfully good of you."
Suddenly Bob uttered an exclamation that brought his friend hurrying
to his side.
"What is it?" Joe asked.
For answer the other youth pointed to a small tin box that was black
from being in the fire. It had hung on the wall behind an old radiator
hood, which had a moment before fallen to the floor.
"What could that be?" Bob Holton asked. "Does it belong to your dad?"
Joe reached up and took it down from its hanger.
"Has a hole in the top. And what's that thing protruding from the
side?"
"Beyond me. Could be a---- Great Scott! Come on. We must get it to
your father at once."
Bewildered, Joe followed his friend to the back door, where the two
men were still conversing.
"What does this mean?" asked Bob coolly, handing the box to Mr. Lewis.
The latter examined it closely for a moment. Then, suddenly grasping
the meaning, he stared at the others.
"Firebugs at work!" he exclaimed, fumbling the box nervously. "Someone
_set_ the garage on fire!"