THE TOLL THAT FIRE COLLECTS
Everything in the town of Columbia seemed to be astir. As Frank and
Lanky came rapidly down the Harrapin to the landing at the Boat Club
they heard the clanging of bells, the tooting of automobile horns,
the blowing of steam whistles, and the sound of many voices, all in a
babel.
“It is dad’s place, all right!” Frank’s remark was more in the nature
of a groan than anything else, though he was not usually given to
taking things that way. But, at the end of a day of excitement
of several kinds, at the end of a day wherein he had been openly
accused of a theft of silverware and jewels by the policeman from
headquarters, this outbreak of the fiery monster in his father’s
place was calculated to give him a sinking of the heart.
“I believe it is, too,” came from his friend.
They made the landing and tied the boat as quickly as safety would
permit, having first drifted it into its house. Frank looked
hurriedly about to see that nothing of an inflammable nature was
exposed to anything which might start a fire, and then, ready to
leave, he threw off the main switch.
Out of the building they went on the shoreward side, and started the
dash for the fire.
“Dad’s place, is right!” Frank gasped, as they turned into the main
street leading uptown and could see the exact location of the blaze.
Crowds had gathered quickly, the streets were fairly jammed, people
being there in all manners of dress, for it was close to the midnight
hour and Columbia had, in a very large measure, retired for the night
when the summons came.
Lines of hose were lying about the streets, all drawn tight like so
many wriggling snakes of huge size, as the two boys neared the square
where the fire was.
At the corner below the Allen store, standing close to a fireplug,
stood one of the city’s engines, manned by two coal-dust-covered
firemen, adding to the pressure of the water line.
The police had taken charge of the situation, and were holding back,
by means of a patrol, the great crowds of people so that they would
not hinder the hurrying firemen in their work.
Sparks and flying pieces of burning wood were being hurled in every
direction.
Frank and Lanky, leaping lines of hose, dodging the firemen, roughly
breaking their way through the cordons of people here and there,
dashed headlong for the fire.
“Hi! Come back there! Get back of the line!” yelled one policeman, as
Frank broke through a crowd of onlookers.
Before he could dodge or wriggle through somewhere else the burly
fellow had him by the shoulder.
“That’s my father’s place!” cried Frank. “Let me through so I can
help him. Maybe he’s in there!”
The policeman looked the boy over, and then, slowly through his brain
came a recollection of this young fellow and his athletic exploits in
Columbia.
“All right, young feller,” he said, and Frank was released. “I’ll let
ye go, but take care when ye reach the main line up there. Orders is
orders, and we’re not to let any one through.”
Again Frank and Lanky stretched their legs for the fire, this time
being slowed down considerably by the heat which rushed down upon
them from the blaze which was rapidly gaining.
As they turned around the corner from the street on which the store
faced, and looked down the side street this sight greeted their eyes:
The entire northwest corner of the Allen Department Store was ablaze,
flames leaping from the tier of windows running up the freight
elevator. The flames had probably started at some floor near the
bottom of the building and had been drawn straight upward through the
elevator shaft, which acted as a giant flue, or stack. The danger lay
in their spreading to each of the floors.
Frank stood motionless as the sight lay before him. Lanky stood
panting beside him, their eyes taking in the scene from top to bottom.
“There’s dad!” Frank moved swiftly across the street to where he saw
his father helping direct the work of the firemen. “What can I do,
dad?”
“Nothing right now, boy. The thing is just trying to get a start.
Those iron doors at the elevator openings will hold the flames from
each of the floors, if only we can keep them in check for a little
while.”
But Frank was hardly willing, like the red-blooded boy he was, to
stand idly by and permit this to be going on without some effort on
his part to help.
“Dad—” he grabbed his father by the sleeve—“what do you say if I take
some of that fire-fighting powder and try to get it down the shaft?”
“That’s the idea! But don’t you do it! Let some of the firemen do
that. They’re better prepared.”
Frank paid no further heed. He called to Lanky, and then led the way
to the warehouse across the alley from the store. In his pocket was
a key which he always carried, for he stored much of his athletic
material there from time to time. Unlocking the door and quickly
closing it behind them as the two boys entered, Frank found the spot
where the stock of fire-fighting powder was kept. He and Lanky took
three packages each, as much as they could safely carry.
“How’ll we get up there?” asked Lanky.
“Go through the lodge rooms next door. Let’s get over there and get
to that adjoining roof. Some of the firemen can bring a ladder up.”
As they came out of the warehouse Mr. Allen was there to meet them,
with the chief of the department alongside.
“Here, Frank, the chief will attend to that.”
“No, keep as many men down here with the water as you can. Give me a
couple of men to bring up a ladder through the lodge next door, and
we’ll get to the roof. Then we can douse this powder down the shaft
and slow it up enough to fight.”
“We’ll put a hose up there, too!” cried the chief.
“Look out for the garage over there!” went up a shout from the crowd
just at this juncture, and they all turned to look.
Great fiery embers were floating down on the roof of the garage which
stood on the opposite side, wherein was stored barrel upon barrel of
oil and where a great deal of oily waste was lying around, gas also
being kept in the tanks which were fed from the sidewalk.
“Put a hose on that garage!” called the chief. “Now, Tom, you and
Andy get a ladder and go with these two boys. Get to the roof
adjoining. Tell Micky to send a hose up through the stairway next
door and try to get it to the roof.”
The two boys got around the corner, the police keeping the surging
crowds back, and started up the steps to the lodge room at the top.
Reaching there, panting hard for breath, the two boys faced the door
of the lodge room, closed, locked.
But Frank knew better than to go this way. In all such buildings
there is an opening to the roof from the hallway, and Frank’s
observation was that this opening was usually at the rear. So it was
in this case.
In another moment the two firemen with the ladder hoisted it in
place. One of them scrambled to the top, unhooked the hatch, threw it
on to the roof, and all four of them were very quickly out on top.
“Just in time!” cried the first fireman. “And luckily for us, the
wind is blowing the other way—off the building instead of on to it.”
Making their way quickly across to the parting wall, having pulled
the ladder up behind them, they now placed it against the wall and
all four scaled to the roof of the Allen store.
One of the firemen grabbed a bag of the fire-powder from Frank’s arm,
and both of them rushed toward the elevator shaft, where blazes were
breaking through the wooden door. Laying the powder on the roof,
they again dragged the ladder up from the wall, and, using it as a
battering ram, they very quickly knocked the burning door inward.
Out leaped a perfect rush of flames, their long red hungry tongues
leaping and crackling in fiendish glee as the opening gave a
first-class draft for the fire below in the shaft.
Crack! The first bag of fire-powder was hurled into the shaft,
spilling downward. Crack, went another. Then another, and one more,
in quick succession, each carefully aimed through the center of the
opening.
By this time the firemen with the hose were calling for the ladder,
which was passed down to them by the two firemen on the roof while
Frank and Lanky continued hurling the powder at the opening until all
six bags were gone.
Frank recalled that the salesman of the powder had stated that it
was merely a deterrent of fire, and would not extinguish a large
blaze—only hold it in check for a few moments.
So it did in this case. The flames of a sudden grew smaller, and
Frank realized that their time to get water down the shaft had
arrived.
“Water!” went the cry from one of the firemen on the roof, as he
signaled to the street below, where a burly fellow stood at the water
plug with hand on wrench ready to give them the water.
Instantly the hose swelled and twisted and turned, writhing to get
away from them, but six men, including Frank and Lanky, were at the
nozzle end of the hose, keeping it to its duty.
Swish! The first rush of water came, stopped, and then a full stream
came pumping through the nozzle. Straight into the elevator shaft it
went. The flames leaped up in defiance, and the water struck again.
“We’ve got it now!” came from one of the firemen in a muffled voice.
“It may break through one of the other floors, but it can’t do any
more harm in this shaft.”
Seeing that the fire through the shaft was now held in check, or
would be in a few minutes more, as black smoke commenced rolling up,
Frank went over the side and started down. Lanky was immediately
behind him, having first asked the firemen if four of them could
handle the nozzle.
“Gee, I hope it hasn’t gotten through any of those floor doors,”
remarked Frank, as they reached the top floor of the lodge building
and walked down the stairs.
“I don’t suppose it has, but even if it has they can hold it now,
because the fellows on top will stop it from going up the flue,”
remarked Lanky.
Down at the street level once more, they turned to where the fire had
been raging. Sparks were no longer flying as freely as they had, and
the sky was not so well lighted by the flames.
Crash! Crash! A sound as of a floor falling.
Just at this moment the fire chief came running toward Frank.
“Mr. Allen’s down in the basement! He went in there a minute ago!”
“Is father in there?” blurted Frank Allen dazedly.
“So one of the men says. I told him to keep out of there, but he went
in by the front door a few minutes ago this fellow says, and he just
came back to tell me.”
“That’s a fact. Went running in, and I yelled at him, because there’s
no telling what’s in there yet.”
Frank turned and started for the front door.
“Here, here!” the chief grabbed for Frank. “Hold on! I’ll go in there
and find him! Stay out of there!”
But he had spoken too slowly, and even his words would not have
stopped the boy. Lanky went leaping behind his chum, but the chief
grabbed Wallace and threw him to one side, telling him to stay out,
while he, the chief, went dashing through the door behind Frank.
A heavy pall of smoke hung over the entire first floor, and as the
door opened and closed behind him, Frank Allen felt a heavy rush of
heat and wondered how his father could have gone through it.
“Dad! Dad!” he cried, but then decided to keep his mouth closed,
for he had sucked in a mouthful of the choking smoke, and his lungs
seemed to be bursting.
Holding his breath, he rushed along the broad aisle toward the rear.
Flames were licking around the elevator shaft, just breaking through.
Around the stairway opening the floor was gone! It had caved in, and
flames were now starting to leap through to the first floor.
How should he get below? His father was probably down there. Probably
had been directly over this spot when the cave-in happened, caused by
the flames having eaten away the floor supports in the basement.
A groan came from the right of them. Like a flash Frank leaped in
that direction. He recalled the narrow stairs which led to the vault
in the basement from the rear office, while the broader stairway was
used for customers.
Barely able to hold his breath, gasping and gulping, the boy made his
way to that narrow stairway, down its sinuous path, heard the groan
again, and himself fell to the floor as he slipped on the steps.
The flames in the farther part of the basement were leaping and
crackling, lighting the entire space. Mr. Allen was crawling along
the floor, groaning and moaning, having tumbled through when the
floor caved in.