ON THE LAKE
The tramp seemed overcome by emotion. He held the quarter which Bert
had given him as though he did not know what to do with it.
"It's a good one," said the lad, with a smile.
"Oh, I wasn't thinking that," was the answer. "It--it seems queer to
have any one decently civil to me, that's all. I tell you, I
appreciate it, young fellow. I've had a hard time of it. Maybe it was
mostly my own fault, but I certainly have had hard luck. I can't
afford to work for the wages they pay girls, and since I had to give
up my job I've been down and out. Nobody had a decent word to say to
me--especially since my clothes got to looking so bad."
"I wish I could do something else for you," said Bert. "But I haven't
any more money. You see, we boys are trying to pay for that engine."
"Oh, I wouldn't accept any more of your money. It makes me ashamed to
take this, when I'm a grown man, and you're but a lad. I tell you,
when I fell in the water I didn't much care whether I came up again or
not."
"That's a wrong way to feel."
"I know it, and I'm going to get over it. I'm going to make a new
start, thanks to you. I'll not forget you. Maybe you'll see me when
you least expect it."
With this the tramp turned away, crossed the little bridge, this time
in safety, and hurried off across the fields, as he saw several of the
boys coming down toward the brook.
"That's a queer tramp," thought Bert. "I wonder if I ever shall see
him again?"
He was destined to, and under strange circumstances.
"Hello, Bert!" cried Cole, who was one of the group of boys. "What are
you doing here? The fire's all out."
"I know it. I was gathering up the buckets. Guess we'd better get the
engine back home--that's another thing we hadn't thought of. Where are
we going to keep it?"
"My barn's a good place," replied Cole. "That will give me a chance to
fix some of the pump valves. They didn't work just right to-night.
Why--hello! You're all wet!" he added, as he came close to his chum,
and saw that his clothes were dripping water.
"Yes-er-I-er-I got in the brook," replied Bert, not caring to tell
about the tramp just yet.
"I should say you did get in. Some of the fellows must have left the
buckets too close to the edge. But, come on, let's haul the engine
back."
Most of the crowd had now dispersed, a few members of the bucket
brigade lingering to further examine the engine, while some of them
made slighting remarks about it. The boys paid no attention to them,
but, taking hold of the long rope, pulled the machine through the main
street of the village. The lads found their new fire department
increased largely as they advanced, for not a youngster in town,
whether or not he had before this taken an interest in the
organization, but who was now glad to get hold of the rope and pull.
"Guess we could organize two companies with this crowd," remarked
Cole, looking at the throng.
"Yes. We'll have to get together to-morrow or next day and elect
officers. Then we'll have to arrange some sort of a plan for answering
alarms."
The engine was run into Cole's barn, and the boys crowded around for
another observation of it. They actually seemed to hate to leave it to
go home to bed. "Say, I guess it isn't going to run away," remarked
John Boll, at length. "It'll be here tomorrow and the next day. I'm
going home."
This started the boys to moving, and soon Cole shut up the barn,
taking extra good care to see that the doors were locked.
"Maybe some members of that jealous bucket brigade might take a notion
to run our engine off," he said to himself.
But no such calamity happened, and the machine was safe in the barn in
the morning when Cole overhauled the valves and fixed them. Bert and
some of his chums called around after breakfast, and they talked fires
and engine to their hearts' content.
In the next few days several meetings were held, and the Boys'
Volunteer Fire Department of Lakeville was formally organized. Because
of his part in starting it, Herbert was unanimously elected captain.
There was a little contest as to who should be the lieutenant, but the
honor went to Vincent in recognition of his good work at the Stimson
barn fire.
Of course, Cole was made engineer, chief mechanic and everything else
that pertained to the actual operation of the engine. He was about the
only boy who could qualify, for only he could take the pumps apart and
get them together again. Tom Donnell was made chief of the "bucket
corps," as the boys decided to call that part of the fire-fighting
force whose duty it was to keep the engine tank filled with water. The
other boys, to the number of a score or more, were made ordinary
firemen, to help haul the engine, pass the buckets or work the
handles.
There was some dispute as to who would be in charge of the hose, at
the nozzle ends, during a fire, and, to get around this, as it was
considered a post of honor, Bert decided the boys could take turns.
There was something fascinating about directing a stream of water upon
a blaze, and it is no wonder that every boy but Cole wanted the place.
That is, excepting Bert, and he had all he could take care of with his
duties as captain.
It was decided to keep the engine permanently in Cole's barn, as that
was near the centre of the village.
"We ought to have some sort of an alarm bell," suggested John Boll.
"We can't always depend on Constable Stickler."
"That's so," admitted Bert. "I wonder if we couldn't get permission to
have the church bell rung?"
This seemed a good idea, and Bert and Cole interviewed the minister on
the subject. He readily agreed to let the bell on the edifice be rung
whenever there was a fire, and it was arranged that a long rope would
hang from the belfry to the ground outside, where it could be reached
by the constable and pulled to give an alarm. Mr. Stickler was
delighted with his new office and increased duties.
"I'll have a regular signal system," he explained to the boys, after
studying over the matter at some length. He had lost all his antipathy
to the engine, and now favored the new fire department more than he
did the bucket brigade. "I'll ring the bell once when there's a fire
in the northern part of the town," he said; "twice when it's in the
east, three times when it's in the south, and four strokes when the
blaze is on the west side."
The boys were pleased with this plan, and also delighted that the old
constable took such an interest in their work. As for the members of
the bucket brigade, they, for the most part, sneered whenever the new
department was mentioned.
"Wait 'till they get up against a real fire," said Moses Sagger. "Then
we'll see what good their old second-hand engine is. They'll have to
depend on the bucket brigade then."
The matter of paying the remaining forty dollars due on the engine
worried Bert and his chums not a little, until Cole's father suggested
that they charge a small sum weekly for each boy who belonged. As
every youth in town was anxious for the honor, it was figured that
they could collect at least a dollar a week in this way, since they
charged each boy five cents, and there were over twenty. Then, too, at
Mr. Bishop's suggestion, they decided to ask a donation from every
person whose property they helped save from the flames.
Mr. Kimball, whose haystack was partly saved, heard about this, and
sent the boys five dollars. Mr. Stimson, in view of the good work of
Bert and Vincent, sent the new department ten dollars, so they began
to see their way clear, especially as the Jamesville authorities voted
to give the boys as long as they needed to pay for the engine.
For a week or more after the haystack fire there was no occasion to
use the engine. It had been put in good shape by Cole, and parts of it
had been given a fresh coat of paint, until it looked almost as good
as new. Constable Stickler had practiced sending the signals, and the
bell could be heard by the boys living in the farthest part of the
town. As soon as members of the new fire department heard the signal
they were to dress quickly, and hurry to Cole's barn. Thus, with the
constable on the watch to detect the first sign of a blaze, the boys
were ready to tackle the biggest kind of a conflagration.
One pleasant summer day, Bert and several of his chums were out in a
rowboat on the lake. They frequently spent much time on the water, for
there was good fishing in it and in the river which flowed into the
lake, and they also had much fun swimming.
"Let's row over toward the big cove and have a dip," proposed Bert,
who, with Tom Donnell, was at the oars. "It's getting too hot out here
in the sun."
All agreed, and soon they were in a secluded part of the sheet of
water. Big Cove, as it was locally called, was a sort of bay, almost
out of sight from the main part of the lake. To reach it the boys had
to row around a point, which extended for quite a distance out into
the water. On this point was a boathouse, which was part of the
property on which stood an old and what at one time had been a
handsome residence. This was on a bluff, overlooking the lake, and was
known as the Stockton mansion.
As the rowboat turned this point the boys were surprised to see a
small motor craft shoot out from the boathouse.
"Look at that!" exclaimed Bert. "I didn't know there was one of those
gasolene jiggers on the lake."
"Me either," added Tom. "Must be a new one. Wonder who's in it?"
"Must be somebody from the Stockton house," said Vincent; "though I
didn't know anybody was living there now."
"Yes, there's somebody in it," added John Boll, "but I never knew they
had a boat."
"Look out!" suddenly exclaimed Bert. "It's coming right for us!"
Sure enough the motor boat was headed straight for the rowing craft,
and it was coming on at top speed. No one could be seen in it, though
the engine could be heard puffing.
"It's running away!" cried Tom. "Let's catch it!"
"Let's get out of the way, you mean," called Bert. "Do you want to be
sunk in the deepest part of the lake? Pull on your left oar, Tom!
Pull! Pull!"
The motor boat was now almost upon the other craft.