WHAT FOLLOWED THE CELEBRATION
"Hey! boys, listen to that, will you? Has the fire-engine company
started to join in the celebration?" whooped Phil Parker, who was
along with the rest, though barred from the football squad because of
an injury to his leg, and also positive orders from headquarters at
home to avoid all strenuous sports for some months.
"Not much they haven't, Phil!" cried Joel Jackman, showing signs of
growing excitement. "Nothing make-believe about that alarm, let me
tell you. There's a genuine fire broken out somewhere around town!"
"Just as like as not some of those reckless kids with their bonfires
have gone and done it!" ventured Steve Mullane, indignantly; "and now
the people will begin to say how foolish it was to give up the town to
this wild orgy of celebration, just because the boys of Chester won a
game."
"Listen, will you?" exclaimed still another of the bunch, as they
stood there with strained ears, and at the same time casting
apprehensive glances around, as though each individual fellow had a
haunting dread lest it might turn out to be his own comfortable home
that was threatened with destruction.
"Going to be some fire, let me tell you," snapped Fred Badger, "with
the wind blowing as strong as it does."
"There, look over yonder, boys, just beyond the spire of the
Presbyterian Church! Don't you think it's showing brighter in that
quarter? Yes, sir, the fire lies over that way, as sure as anything!"
"Let's gallop along, then," suggested Toby Hopkins impulsively. "No
telling when the volunteer firemen will get there, they seem so slow
about gathering, and running their old machine to a blaze. Thank
goodness! we've decided to have an up-to-date fire department in
little old Chester right away. Our town has waked up from her long
sleep, and is beginning to stretch and yawn."
They were already in motion before Toby reached the end of his speech,
running in pretty much of a bunch; just as though it might be a game
of hare-and-hounds that was being started, and the signal had been
given to take up the pursuit.
As they dashed along at quite a good speed, the boys could hear cries
of interest on all sides. People who had retired to their homes, under
the belief that the exciting night's doings were about over, now stood
in open doorways. Questions were flung at the boys as they rushed by,
the burden of these anxious inquiries being as to the location of the
fire.
Of course, as they themselves were still densely ignorant concerning
this, none of the bunch could give any coherent answer; though one
might fling over his shoulder some reassuring words such as:
"Don't know exactly; but it doesn't seem to be in the mill section!"
Doubtless that brought a sense of relief, for whenever there sprang up
a fire in Chester the first fear of everybody was that it might be
among the fine structures clustered closely together, and consisting
of various busy mills and workshops employing hundreds of persons.
It was a fit night for a big fire, others thought, as they noted how
the November wind scurried along with a keen tang, as though the first
fall of snow might yet surprise the unsuspecting who may not as yet
have laid in their usual winter's supply of coal and wood.
That same wind was just bound to contribute to the fire-laddies'
troubles, if the conflagration managed to get a fair start, and other
buildings chanced to be close to the one that was burning.
Chester was rather spread out, and covered considerable ground, for it
had taken on quite a building boom during the last few years, when new
enterprises were started, and more people came to town.
There was no question now but that the boys, hurrying along as they
did, were on the right road to the fire. They overtook others bound in
the same direction; and as if this were not enough proof to settle the
question, they could see that a great light was beginning to flame up,
making the sky glow.
"Bet you it's only a grass fire after all!" Jones, the left-end
gasped, as he ran lightly along close beside Hemming, the right guard,
who had also been a substitute catcher in the baseball days when Steve
Mullane held out behind the bat like a stone wall.
"I'd say it was a barn full of hay going up the flue," the other
ventured.
No doubt every fellow was hazarding some sort of guess. None of them
felt any further personal fear, because they now knew that the blaze
was in a section where their homes did not chance to be situated.
"Whee! get that flash of fire, will you?" shouted Big Bob Jeffries,
who, despite his heft, managed to keep in the van alongside Jack and
Joel and several other fast runners.
All of them had seen it. Through the darkness of the night a tongue of
flame had suddenly shot up, and then vanished again; but not before
they could notice that dense volumes of smoke hung around the spot.
"What place is it?" called out McGuffey, from the centre of the bunch;
"does anybody know?"
"I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it turned out to be that crabbed old
miser, Philip Adkins' big house!" ventured Joel; who had often come
around this way on his wheel on errands, and ought to be as well
acquainted with the locality as anyone, it would seem.
"Right for you, Joel; that's just whose house it is!" echoed another
boy, as well as he could utter the words, considering that he was
already beginning to get short of breath.
They all knew of Philip Adkins, who had long been quite a character
about Chester. He was said to be quite well-to-do, though those who
called him a millionaire were doubtless "drawing the long bow," as
people always do whenever the wealth of a miser is under
consideration.
Philip Adkins lived in a big house that was unpainted; but those who
had had the opportunity of seeing the inside always said he did not
stint himself in the way of comfort at all, and that he was only a
"peculiar" man. He had one great grudge against the world it seemed.
Other boys were straight and healthy, but for some unaccountable
reason Heaven had seen fit to give him a crippled grandson. Little
Carl Adkins was a pitiable looking object. They sometimes saw him shut
up in a closed carriage, and being whisked through the town; but few
had ever been able to pass a word with the poor boy. These reported
that he was really bright, and had a woe-begone look on his drawn
white face, as though his life had known little of joy.
His grandfather hated the sight of other lads, because they reminded
him that his boy had none of their abounding health and good looks. He
loved the child almost fiercely, partly on account of the boy's
misfortune. They said he kept a servant whose main duties were just to
attend to little crippled Carl.
Jack remembered an occasion when by sheer accident he had chanced to
be passing close to the property of the so-called miser, when he heard
a soft "Hello, there!" and glancing up discovered a white, peaked face
amidst some vines covering a stone wall. He had heard something about
the strange habits of Philip Adkins, and how jealously he guarded his
deformed grandson from coming in contact with the outside world, under
the belief that people would pity the lad, and some be rude enough to
mock his misfortunes.
Jack had stopped and given the little fellow a friendly smile. He had
even spoken to Carl, and when the boy eagerly answered him, entered
into quite an animated little chat, replying to many feverish
questions the other poured out, mostly concerning the things he knew
other boys did, for he was a great reader, that being his one
enjoyment.
Although their little talk was broken off by the sudden coming of the
man-servant who looked after the crippled boy, Jack had never
forgotten the last words Carl spoke to him:
"Oh! what wouldn't I give if grandfather would let me just
_watch_ other boys play ball, and fish, and go in swimming!"
Jack had somehow never told any one of his little encounter with the
crippled boy, but those plaintive words often rang in his ears. He had
even wondered sometimes whether it would do any good if he should seek
an interview with the crabbed, cross-grained old man, and try to
persuade him to change his belief that he was doing right in
sheltering the cripple from a rude world. But up to the present Jack
had not been able to make up his mind to attempt such a bold thing.
And now, what if it turned out that this was the house that was afire,
possibly set ablaze through some spark that had been carried by the
wind, and lodged where it could communicate to some waste material. A
peculiar sense of "coming events casting a shadow before" assailed
Jack. He had a vague idea that there might prove to be more about this
than mere accident. Sometimes a strange "Destiny shapes our ends," he
remembered reading, "rough-hew them as we may." Mr. Adkins had
determined that his poor grandson, whom he passionately loved, should
be sheltered from stinging criticism, and not allowed to mingle with
his kind; but perhaps a power stronger than his will might take
affairs in hand, to guide him along a new path, as his eyes were
opened to the light.
There was now no longer any doubt concerning the identity of the
doomed structure. Joel loudly declared it to be the Adkins house,
beyond question.
"And let me tell you, fellows, it's going to be a tough job for our
firemen to save any part of the old building, because the blaze has
got such a good start I reckon old Philip will have to put up a really
modern house in place of the old rookery."
"He's got the cold cash to do it, boodles of the stuff!" panted Phil
Parker.
The Adkins house was surrounded with fair-sized grounds, in which no
doubt the little prisoner took his daily constitutionals, crutches in
hand, though his world must indeed have seemed exceedingly small to
the poor chap.
The gate was now open, and people pouring in through the gap, all
expressing a great interest in the prospect of any part of the
structure being saved.
"But you can depend on it the old fellow has got it well insured," one
man was saying to another as they pushed through the opening. "Trust
old Philip for always looking out for the safe side. But she'll make a
big blaze before they manage to get enough water going to smother the
flames."
Just then the boys pushing closer toward the house that stood amidst
clouds of billowing smoke saw some one rushing frantically about. It
was old Philip Adkins himself, and he certainly looked almost crazed
with excitement. At first, as was only natural, the boys rested under
the belief that it was the possible loss of his house and its contents
that made him act so wildly; but when they heard what he was shrieking
they realized that he had good cause for acting so.
"Oh! won't some of you _please_ go in and save my poor boy? I believed
his attendant was with him, and had carried Carl out; but the man had
slipped away after putting his charge to bed, and was over in town,
amusing himself in a tavern, I've just found out. Save the poor child,
and name your own reward, for I'll go mad if anything happens to my
boy!"