Behind the Broken Door
“You got what you went after, then, didn’t you, Rob?” asked Tubby,
delighted to see the scout leader again.
They had gone off at such a furious pace that ever since Tubby had
been anxious concerning their safety. While watching the advance of
the devouring element, and the desperate efforts of the gallant
firemen to try and throw some obstacles in the path of the flames,
Tubby’s thoughts would constantly go out toward the absent chums,
with whose well being he was so greatly concerned.
“Yes, it’s here along with us,” Rob told him.
“But, say, what about Ralph?” demanded Andy, suddenly noticing that
the party he mentioned was absent.
“He came back with us, all right,” the scout leader replied. “Just
now he’s trying to find the Chief of the Fire Department. You see,
we couldn’t start trying to blow up this building here without his
consent.”
“Land’s sake alive! I hope they get here pretty quick, then!”
ejaculated Tubby. “It’s coming closer and closer right along. Andy
and myself were getting ready to clear out of here when you showed
up.”
Rob had already noticed this for himself. His nervousness came back,
only instead of a fear lest some accident happen to the speeding
car, he now had something else to bother him.
They could feel the intense heat where they stood. Sparks fell all
around them, endangering their eyes if they ventured to look upward.
“Better turn your coat collars up, fellows,” advised Rob. “If you
got one of these flying sparks down your back you wouldn’t like it
much.”
“That’s right,” commented Andy, “an ounce of prevention is better
than a pound of cure. Whew! just look at that cloud of sparks rise
up! Must have been a building collapsed then to make the shower.”
“But I don’t see Ralph coming along yet,” complained Tubby, as he
strained his eyes to stare down the street where the other must
appear if he came at all.
There were plenty of people in sight, most of them onlookers who
were fascinated by the dreadful picture presented by the roaring
abyss of flames, though others were hard pressed firemen dragging
their hose about in the endeavor to find some place where they might
throw a stream into that old building just in the path of the
oncoming flames.
Precious seconds were passing, Rob knew. He wondered whether he
dared attempt to carry out his bold plan even without the consent of
the Fire Chief. One thing certain, unless Mr. Megrue came along
shortly, the last chance to attempt saving the mills would be lost.
The fire was already close to the ruined building, and at any moment
they might expect to see it burst into flames, for it must by now be
getting frightfully hot.
Tubby gave a sudden cry, and was seen hurrying toward a wagon that,
loaded with household goods, and drawn by a man and woman, both
foreigners, in place of a horse, had just passed them by. Something
had fallen off the load; it sprawled there in the street, and lusty
yells announced that it must be a fat baby.
Tubby picked it up and hastened to overtake the man and woman who
were tugging so lustily between the shafts. Then, having given over
the child into the charge of its mother, Tubby gallantly took hold
himself, and started to assist the man to draw his possessions
further away from the grip of the fire demon.
That was just like Tubby, whose heart always beat in sympathy with
any one in trouble. He would do without a meal in order to enjoy
seeing a hungry dog devour what had been intended for his own
consumption.
He did not intend going any great distance. After tugging for half a
block at the load, he felt that he had done his duty. Besides, if
Rob’s plan worked as they hoped, this section of the town would be
spared, and there was no absolute necessity for any one fleeing to a
great distance.
So Tubby came back again, blowing like a porpoise from his
exertions. Ralph had not shown up yet, but Rob placed a hand
affectionately on his shoulder and it needed nothing more to tell
Tubby that his act had both been seen and appreciated at its true
worth by the one whose good opinion he chiefly cared for.
“I believe they’re coming, Rob!” Andy announced, greatly to the
satisfaction of everybody.
It turned out that way, and almost immediately the others also
discovered the figure of their companion hurrying towards them. At
Ralph’s side strode the tall form of a man wearing a glazed fire
hat, and a coat that was supposed to be immune to sparks and flames.
“I guess that’s Chief Megrue,” remarked Mr. Jeffords, eagerly,
“though his face is so black with the smoke and dirt his own wife
wouldn’t recognize him. Yes, I know his walk. Now we may see
something done that will bring results. I was just about to suggest
that you go ahead on your own hook, Rob, and I would stand for the
consequences. Desperate cases require desperate remedies, you know.
But there’s no need of our doing that now, fortunately.”
Ralph piloted his companion to the spot where the others awaited
them. Undoubtedly he must have already found occasion to explain
Rob’s scheme to the head man of the local fire department. Mr.
Megrue had been instantly seized with a conviction that it was
indeed the only thing left to them, since all the puny efforts they
had made to try and drown the fire out had been without avail.
Every fireman must know that such things are resorted to in all big
city fires when the violence of the wind makes it impossible to head
the flames off in any other way. Sometimes it turns out
successfully; and then, again, there may be no tangible result,
owing to circumstances over which even the use of explosives will
have no control.
Rob saw with more or less pleasure that the Chief was a man of
action, and not one of those old fogies sometimes connected with
local companies, all “fuss and feathers,” but lacking in the dash
and valor that should distinguish every firefighter.
Perhaps had he known where he could put his hand on a store of
explosives, the Chief might before this have considered the
possibility of blocking the flames by destroying that old connecting
link of a building.
“He says it’s the finest thing going!” called out Ralph, as he drew
near where his father and the boys were waiting for him. “As I know
how to handle the stuff, as well as the battery, he asks us to do
the job. Rob, I want your help only. Come with me. The Chief will
smash in the door for us, and we can plant the charge in a hurry.
Then it only means running the wires out to some place here, and
afterwards you can touch her off. That ought to be your privilege,
Rob, because you thought up the scheme. Right along this way, Rob,
please!”
Perhaps Sim and Andy, not to mention Tubby, might have liked very
much to be given a part to play in the game; but their common sense
told them there was no necessity for more entering the building than
just those two, unless Chief Megrue chose to accompany the boys. At
least, they could have the satisfaction of being present when the
big affair came off, and watching that ramshackle building collapse
into kindling wood after the charge was fired.
The Chief fortunately had a fire ax with him. It may have been used
to batter in the doors of many a building that had commenced to
smoke, and give other positive signs of being about to burst into
flames. Besides, it is always a useful tool in the hands of your
country-town fireman, with which he loves to smash windows, and to
make a grand show of accomplishing things.
Straight up to the door of the unused building the three of them
hurried, the boys bearing the battery, the little cask containing
the dynamite cartridges, and the coil of wire necessary to complete
the outfit.
“The door is locked or barred!” shouted Sim, which remark told that
he had, during the absence of Ralph and Rob, made a little private
investigation on his own account, for it happened that Sim Jeffords
was of a very inquiring nature.
This information saved the others from wasting any time trying to
open the barrier. It also gave Mr. Megrue his clue, for, rushing
directly up, he commenced to wield that ax of his in a way that
proved him to be a born fire-fighter.
With every blow Tubby and Andy and Sim gave vent to a whoop; which
helped get rid of their extra enthusiasm, and also showed how they
appreciated the work of the axman.
“Go to it, Chief!” shrilled Sim, excitedly. “That time the chips
flew, I’m telling you! Give it another smash like that, and you’ll
see it go down. Wow! look at that crackerjack hit, will you,
fellows? It’s an extra stout door, all right, but just the same it’s
got to go! Once more to the breach everybody. So, there!”
The ax sank into the door, and ripped the panels up. Again did Mr.
Megrue swing it back of him, and once more was that smashing sound
heard, so pleasing to the ear of the listening and watching boys,
who kept one eye on the little drama being played before them, and
at the same time managed to observe the close approach of the sea of
fire menacing the deserted factory.
Finally a shout from Sim announced that the door had been beaten
open, and that the way into the building no longer held any obstacle
to the advance of the trio.
They vanished from view, Fire Chief, Rob and Ralph. The three boys,
together with Ralph’s father, had to possess their souls in patience
while waiting for the reappearance of the bold invaders. At any
moment now they fully expected the building to burst into flames, so
overheated must the dry woodwork have become. It was an anxious time
for Mr. Jeffords, who had seen his son disappear beyond that broken
door. At the same time he knew that Ralph was capable of thinking
for himself, and also that he and Rob would not attempt any
foolhardy feat just for the sake of “showing off.”
There was a method in their madness in the present case. The welfare
of the whole community hung in the balance, for if the fire could
not be stayed by this master stroke of genius, then was Wyoming
doomed; and the morrow’s sun would rise upon the smoking ruins of
the entire town.
Seconds passed, and changed into minutes. When it seemed as though
something like two of these had drifted along, every one was growing
weak with apprehension. They had terrible visions of some evil
having overtaken those who had gone into the building. It was old,
and the floors almost in ruins, so that there was even a possibility
that the venturesome ones had fallen through some unnoticed gap.
Then, again, how were they to tell if some sort of insidious gas had
gripped their chums, and rendered them helpless?
These were the kind of strange fancies that took possession of Sim
Jeffords, always gifted with a lively imagination. He pictured Rob
and his cousin lying there inside the old wreck of a factory,
victims of a treacherous gas, and soon to be devoured by the
oncoming flames.
Sim could stand it no longer. He must ascertain the truth, for it
was always better to know the worst, according to his policy. He
would rush forward and cautiously enter the building, groping his
way through the smoke-filled interior, and calling out the names of
his cousin and Rob.
Filled with this resolution, Sim had even commenced to approach the
open door, paying no attention to the calls of his uncle from the
rear, when, to his great relief, he saw figures bursting out of the
structure. They were Chief Megrue, Rob, the scout leader, and Ralph
Jeffords.