THE VOLUNTEER FIRE LADDIES
"Where's a bucket? I want a bucket! Somebody get me one quick!" shouted
Lanky, as the three boys dashed up to the burning farmhouse.
"Try the barn!" answered Frank, who had found one for himself.
"Where'll we get water?" whooped Ralph, eager to take a hand in the
game.
Frank pounced on an ax that lay on a chopping block close by.
"Follow me with that bucket, Ralph. Here, you, Mister, find anything
you can that will hold water! It's the only chance!"
He ran to the pond close by, and selecting a spot where he believed the
ice was thin, having been broken before for watering the stock, he set
that ax to work. In a dozen seconds he had smashed a hole through the
ice.
"Fill up, and get a line busy, handing the buckets along!" he
exclaimed, as he dipped the one he had brought, and then started on a
run for the house.
Somehow the coming of these energetic boys seemed to have aroused the
people of the house to the fact that only concerted action might save
their home. They managed to find all manner of vessels that would hold
water, and under the direction of Lanky, who took up his station half
way, a regular line was formed.
Women and girls, as well as men, took part with cheerful alacrity. Hope
began to take root in their hearts once more. And at the other end
Ralph was dipping the various vessels in the hole to reach the water of
the pond, just as fast as they came to him.
[Illustration: WOMEN AND GIRLS, AS WELL AS MEN, TOOK PART.]
"Faster, please!" shouted Frank, who was acting the part of pipeman,
and dashing the contents of the buckets on the fire.
It required good judgment to determine just where the water would do
the most benefit, so that it might not be wasted. Frank had watched
many a conflagration in and around Columbia during the last ten years.
Perhaps he had profited by seeing how the local fire companies went to
work to master the flames. The old gray-haired farmer had by this time
brought several more utensils into play. He also took his place in the
line and did good service in hurrying the many buckets along.
Some of the younger ones even laughed and joked, for it is hard to
repress the spirits of youth. They thought it more of a picnic than a
calamity.
If the fire had to come it was fortunate, Frank thought, that so many
of the farmer's relatives chanced to be at the house for Christmas
dinner. With only two or three to pass the buckets there would have
been a poor chance to keep the blaze from eating deeper into the dry
framework of the building.
"Is it gaining?" cried the old lady, who was wringing her hands near by.
"Not a bit of it, ma'am! We're whipping it down! Keep up the good work,
fellows! More water! Hey! Ralph, how does the pond hold out?" shouted
the energetic Lanky, as he hurried the many kinds of vessels along,
there being dishpans, kettles used for preserving purposes, and even a
wash-boiler, china pitchers and all sorts of galvanized and tin pails.
"Plenty where that comes from, Lanky! Hurrah for Frank! He's the boss
pipeman! Look at him bursting in at the door! Good-bye old fire when
that chum of ours hits at the fountain head! Here you are; pass it
along lively now!"
Ralph was excited as never before. It was his first experience at a
fire, and his blood fairly bounded through his veins as he dipped and
dipped, regardless of the stinging coldness of the water. One eye was
kept all the while on the house, and while the smoke seemed as great
as ever he really believed that the fire itself was being rapidly
subdued.
The old farmer also entered the house. Possibly he was mortally
concerned over the safety of certain things left in the sitting-room,
where his desk was located.
Although their arms ached and they could hardly continue to hand the
heavy pails along, the younger element did not cease to laugh. A couple
of buxom red-cheeked girls were ring leaders in this merriment; but
they did fine service in filling a gap in the line, and no one scolded
because they failed to see the seriousness of the occasion.
"She's nearly all in!" called Frank, as he appeared for an instant in
the open door; and then beckoning to Lanky he shouted: "I want you
here, Lanky. Bring the ax along with you!"
And Lanky knew what it meant. He too had watched the firemen of
Columbia doing their work during a blaze; and he had seen them cutting
into the walls in order to get at the smouldering blaze that was hidden
there.
"Here you are, Frank!" he cried, as he rushed into the house bearing
the ax.
The smoke was blinding, and for a few seconds Lanky could not see
anything even close by. He heard voices and knew that the old farmer
and Frank must be talking in the adjacent room; so he pushed on,
coughing and blinking.
Although his eyes already began to sting and smart, Lanky could see
the figures of the others there. The farmer in his excitement had
been trying to carry out his desk, and in some way it had come apart,
leaving the lower half where it had stood. Frank had just succeeded
in convincing him that it was not at all necessary to try and save
anything, as the fire was already well under control.
"Here's the ax, Frank," said Lanky, as he pushed in alongside them.
"Good! You receive the buckets as they come. Don't throw any more
water, but keep it ready while I tear out this place here. I think all
the fire that is left lies back of the wall in this wing off the main
building."
Frank as he spoke swung the ax and vigorously attacked the woodwork. He
had no compunction about smashing a hole right into that wall. Better
a few dollars expended in making repairs than have the whole building
gutted.
His suspicions were quickly verified. Hardly had the ax broken through
than a tongue of flame shot through the new opening. The fire had been
deluged with water in other places, and routed, but here, back of the
wall, it had continued to smoulder sullenly.
After a few more hearty blows, given in order to enlarge the opening,
Frank called out to his assistant.
"Now bring on your water, Lanky! Soak it in well! There, hear that fire
hiss and splutter, will you. A little more juice, Mr. Volunteer. That's
the ticket. I guess we've got it out, all right!" he exclaimed, wiping
the perspiration from his begrimed forehead.
If the air was cold without it had been warm enough where he worked.
His eyes smarted with the pungent smoke, and his throat felt as "dry as
a Sahara," as Frank himself presently declared, when he took up a tin
pail and swallowed some of its contents.
The fire was conquered, and the farmhouse saved! Many were the loud
expressions of satisfaction from the guests. They crowded around the
three boys, and insisted upon shaking hands time after time. Indeed,
Lanky secretly declared that his arm ached more from this exercise than
from handling water pails.
"Let's clean up the mess as best we may!" cried one of the women.
"Yes, get order out of chaos!" echoed the old farmer, whose face was
now beaming with delight after his recent scare.
"Is the dinner burned up?" demanded a youngster, with tears in his eyes.
"No, that's the queer part of it," replied the good housewife; "the
fire didn't get into the kitchen at all. The dinner is cooking right
along, and not hurt one little bit."
Frank looked surprised.
"How is that, Mr. Baxter?" he asked. "Did you have a fire in that wing?"
"Never. We only got up here three weeks ago, after selling out below,
and buying this better farm. That wing has never been used. If the
fire began in there----" and he looked at Frank with this unfinished
sentence on his lips, as though he hardly dared give utterance to the
suspicion it aroused.
"It must have been purposely started then. You know who I am, Mr.
Baxter?" Frank went on, for he had been very much surprised to see
the old farmer here, when he supposed he lived close to the border of
Columbia, in fact not more than a mile from his own home.
"Yes, I recognized you in the start, Frank, and it was lucky for us
you came. We were all sitting here and laughing at some antics of the
youngsters, while waiting to be called to dinner, when smoke came into
the room. Then we started to look it up, and found the fire in full
swing."
"Is there any one you know who would want to see you burned out? Have
you any enemies, Mr. Baxter?" the other went on, his curiosity aroused.
"Not that I know of. It may have been an accident. Perhaps there is a
defective flue. We were having a fire in the grate for the first time
in the sitting-room, you see. But all of you boys must stop a while
with us, and help us eat the dinner that was saved. Ma will never hear
of anything else, you may be sure," and the old man gripped Frank's
hand again energetically.
"Thanks! That's nice of you, sir. We were just thinking of trying to
buy a dinner when we saw the fire. You see we skated up here from
Columbia," said Lanky, who was hovering near enough to catch what was
said.
"You ought to know this boy, Mr. Baxter, though he's so black now his
own mother might hardly recognize him. It's Lanky Wallace," observed
Frank, smiling at the persistence of his hungry chum.
"Why, to be sure. I have known his father these many years, and he
has been my lawyer several times. Lanky, you will be welcome a dozen
times to join us. There's plenty for all, and Ma has the name of being
a pretty good cook. But listen, what is it your other young friend is
shouting. Let us hurry out to see."
They rushed through to the outside air. Here Ralph was calling at the
top of his voice, and pointing across the open field.
"Look yonder, fellows! What d'ye think of that? While the house burned
that escaped jailbird has been here stealing all he could lay hands
on," and Frank was astonished to see a man clad in a striped suit
running, with bundles in his arms.