JACK'S CHANCE
"Wow! look at that, will you?"
"It's a barn most likely!"
"Don't you believe it. I can see the roof of the house! Say, I believe it
must be that old Bradley place! Come along, fellows!"
"There are the firemen on the run! They'll have old Rescue No. 1 on the
jump in a jiffy. Hey, fellers, let's get busy, and pull the hose cart for
'em!"
"Bully idea. Lead the way, Paul! It's up to you to show us how!"
With these and many more cries the Boy Scouts bore down on the building
that sheltered the lone fire department of the town. This consisted of
a cast-off engine in good repair which had been purchased from some big
city, where they were installing an auto in place of horse power for
propelling their machines; and a hose reel, the latter to be drawn by
a line of men.
Of course the assembling firemen were only too glad of the offered aid.
To have a score of husky boys appear so readily on the scene, ready for
business, was in the line of a "snap."
Accordingly, while some of the men got the horses hitched to the engine,
and others started the fire going, the hose cart was rushed out, and its
long rope eagerly seized by the waiting boys.
Paul was at the end of the line, for a scout leader must live up to his
reputation as a general, no matter what the emergency.
"Pull!" went forth the cry, and immediately the hose reel started off in
the direction where a flash of fiery red announced that the excitement
was centred.
Nothing could please such an energetic lot of lads more than a chance to
make themselves useful in this way. They pulled with a will, and passed
along the road leading out of the town, on a wild run.
The one who had declared that it was the old Bradley house that was on
fire must have had the situation well in mind. Perhaps he lived in that
neighborhood, and was better able to judge than the balance of the boys.
At any rate all of them had by now made sure of the fact.
Paul remembered that a family, in which were quite a number of children,
had lately come to town, and taken the big ramshackle building.
The thought gave him a thrill, and inwardly he found himself hoping that
none of them might be caught in that fire-trap.
"There comes the old machine!" shouted the fellow who, not being able to
get a grip on the rope by which the hose wagon was drawn, trotted in the
rear, and made out to push.
Yes, they could hear the shouts of the excited fire laddies now, and also
catch the sound of galloping horses.
Looking over his shoulder, Paul saw a medley of moving lights, evidently
the lanterns carried by the volunteers. These were doubtless clad in
their old toggery and fire hats, the foreman with his silver trumpet in
evidence, without which no respectable fire would think of allowing
itself to be quenched.
And a rising column of sparks attested to the fact that the fire in the
engine was in full blast, so that steam would be ready by the time the
scene of operations was reached.
"One side, boys, and let them pass! Give them plenty of room!" called
Paul.
He had seen that old engine booming along to a fire on many an occasion,
and remembered that the driver, Hank Seeris, was inclined to be a
reckless hand; for as a rule the machine was wobbling from side to
side, and threatening to overturn at any minute.
Up to this date that catastrophe had never happened; but Paul remembered
the old saying that "a pitcher may go to the well once too often;" and he
had fears.
It proved that they were well grounded too, after the hose reed had
safely negotiated the last bend in the road, and the burning dwelling was
in plain sight.
"Look at them coming, full tilt! They will be over at the turn!" shrieked
Bobolink, who, being near the tail end of the double line could observe
what was taking place without hindrance.
Immediately there arose a chorus of loud shouts, as of warning. But
apparently Hank Seeris must have been indulging in more liquor than was
good for him; or else he happened to be in an unusually reckless state.
"They're going over!" howled Bobolink.
"Smash!"
"Oh! there goes our only engine to the scrap heap!" exclaimed Jud
Elderkin, in dismay; for his father happened to be the foreman, and it
looked just then as though the gallant fireman might be without a job.
Paul ran back, as did most of the boys, thinking that something terrible
must have happened.
The plunging horses had been pulled down, and a man was already sitting
on the head of each to keep them from kicking further. There are
generally some wise persons present in such a calamity, who know just
what ought to be done.
Willing hands were already unhitching the horses, so that they could be
taken out of the way, and the ditched engine upraised.
"Where's Hank, the driver! Is he hurt?" asked some one; and Paul
recognized the old minister, who must have been on the way home from
visiting when the alarm burst out, and hence he had accompanied the fire
fighters, eager to lend a hand at the rescue work.
"Here he is, and just comin' to, after being knocked senseless. Hank
ain't hurted, I reckon," answered a citizen who had run with the machine.
"How about the engine--is she much damaged?" asked the foreman, as men
set about raising the heavy Rescue No. 1.
"Out of business for this trip, Elderkin. She'll never work again till
she's gone down to the city for repairs," came the answer.
A groan of dismay went up.
"That settles the fate of the old Bradley house, then," declared many, as
they saw the flames and smoke apparently increasing.
Everybody was now anxious to get on the scene, and the engine was left in
charge of a watcher, while the crowd rushed along, exchanging views of
the accident, and the chances of saving the building by means of a bucket
brigade.
The foreman proved himself to be the right man in the right place. He
instantly organized a double line of men and boys, leading from the creek
near by, up to the house that was burning.
Every imaginable species of bucket and tin pail was pressed into use. Men
and boys invaded the kitchen and captured all sorts of utensils, from
milkpans to butter firkins.
These were put into use, and passed along as rapidly as those at the
creek end could plunge them in, and fill them with water.
At the other terminus the foreman and his assistants took the water
pails, and dashed the contents here and there as opportunity arose.
The Boy Scouts were nearly all somewhere in the line, and working
valorously. For the time being they utterly forgot they were dressed in
their new suits of khaki, and that the pails slopped over continuously,
soon soaking them to the skin.
Cheered on by the appeals of their leader they never flinched. It was the
first chance Paul had of seeing how his enlisted followers could forget
self, and rise grandly to an occasion.
When any one showed signs of tiring he was quickly crowded out of the
line by another eager willing worker. Indeed, there seemed to be three
applicants for each job; and had there been more buckets several lines
might have been formed to make use of that accommodating creek.
Jack, after a little, found himself pushed aside by another scout, who
wanted to exercise his muscles, and could wait no longer.
Seeing a group around some children, and hearing sudden cries from a
woman, Jack hurried across the lawn. Somehow he seemed to fear that
new trouble had broken out; and when he saw a half-clad figure wringing
her hands, and shrieking, he realized that his suspicions were going to
prove true.
"What is it?" he asked, of another scout, coming away from the group.
"Her baby. She says it is in the house!" replied the boy, whose face was
white with the horror of it all.
"What?" cried Jack; "did she forget her own baby, then?"
"She thought her husband had it. He's a sick man too. See, that's him
they are holding back there. He wants to go in for the baby, and they
won't let him. Oh! Jack, I'd like to do it, but I'm afraid of fire. I
just dassent!" sobbed the boy.
Jack waited to hear no more. His blood seemed to be on fire, and his
teeth came together with a click.
Another moment and he was in the group, eagerly plying the almost
distracted mother with questions as to which room her baby had been in.
Fortunately Jack had once known a boy living in the old Bradley mansion;
so that the interior of the house was not strange to him.
"Our bedroom--it is the corner one where the tower stands. The one that
has the alcove!" the lady managed to cry, as she caught his arm, and
looked, oh, so pleadingly, in his boyish, determined face.
After that Jack would have risked anything in the attempt to save that
innocent little one. He rushed off without saying a word. Several put
out a hand to stop him, under the belief that it was useless, since that
portion of the building seemed to be a mass of flames by now. But Jack
dodged them just as he did when running with the ball on the football
field.
When he dashed into the house, disappearing in the volume of smoke that
poured from the open doorway, a groan went up from the great crowd; for
they doubted as to whether he would ever be seen alive again.