A WARM FIVE MINUTES.
"Fire! Fire!"
So Frank shouted, even as he jumped over the fence, and made a bee line
for the center of the big field, where the shed lay in which the
precious monoplane was stored.
He had hastily leaned his bicycle against the fence as he made the
plunge. Nor did he cease to let out constant yells while running across
the open as fast as his agile legs could carry him. Twice he tripped
over some object and nearly fell, only to recover himself and speed on.
As he ran he kept his eyes upon the low building beyond. In this manner
he plainly saw the stooping figure of a man or boy making off in a
roundabout way so as to avoid him.
Frank's heart was burning with indignation because of this dastardly
attempt to ruin the gallant little airship that had so nobly stood all
tests and proven itself a splendid piece of workmanship.
"Oh, the contemptible coward! I'd just like to chase after him and get
my hands on him once!" was the thought that passed through his brain.
But he knew he could not. The scoundrel, no matter who it was, must be
allowed to escape in order that he turn his attention to the burning
shed and try to save the airship from destruction. Once the fire got
inside, there was enough of the dangerous gasoline about to insure the
speedy burning of the whole flimsy fabric, all but the motor itself.
So Frank kept headed straight for the hangar, trying to shut out the
sight of that crouching, fleeing figure. He continued to lift his sturdy
young voice in repeated shouts:
"Fire! Fire!"
Those in the house must hear; yes, and the neighbors, too. He might not
be able to master the flames alone and single handed, and would need
help. Besides, it was only right that Andy, being part owner in the
monoplane, should be made aware of its sudden peril.
As he thus drew near the low building he saw that the fire had already
gained considerable headway, just as if the incendiary might have used
kerosene or some other inflammable fluid, to hasten matters.
Frank's heart grew cold as ice as he contemplated the rapidity with
which those hungry flames were crawling up the dry boards that
constituted the side of the shed.
But he did not lose his head in this sudden crisis. It was
characteristic of Frank Bird that, no matter what the emergency, he was
always cool enough to think out the proper thing to be done or else jump
at it through instinct.
And Frank had foreseen just some such possible need as this. He even
kept several buckets of moist sand handy, where it could be snatched up
at a second's warning, knowing that most fires can be smothered, when
quenching them with water is out of the question.
"The buckets!" he gasped, as he arrived close to the building, one part
of which was now fairly covered with the creeping tongues of ruddy
fire. "I must use them on it!"
He had to turn the corner of the shed to get to where they stood. And as
he did so he ran plump into a figure that was coming toward him. Just in
time did Frank dodge a big fist that shot out. And in that second he
recognized in the other Shea, the Irishman who had been hired to keep
watch of the shed.
"Hold on, Shea!" shouted Frank. "It's me, Frank Bird. Somebody has set
fire to the shed! Grab up a bucket of sand and carry it around here. We
can put it out yet if we're busy!"
Shea had evidently only been aroused from a sound sleep by the
approaching cries of the boy and was still in a daze. He had discovered
the fire, and hearing Frank running toward him, supposed that this must
be the one who had done the evil deed.
But he had sense enough to do as he was told now, snatching up one of
the sand buckets and following the boy. Frank immediately commenced
fighting the flames with a vim. He slapped the wet sand at the creeping
fire, and wherever it struck there seemed to come a quick abatement of
the conflagration. But it was by this time so extended that as fast as
he succeeded in knocking it out in one place it cropped up afresh
somewhere else.
His ammunition would not last if this kept up.
"Get busy, Shea!" he cried. "Find something and slap at the fire for all
you're worth! Fight it, man, fight it!"
As Frank happened to turn his head to learn what the other was doing he
saw something that made very little impression on his mind just then,
but which had considerable bearing on the matter later.
A light was speeding along the road, heading away from town, and Frank
realized that the firebug had seized upon his convenient wheel and was
making his escape.
Later on he might figure out the meaning of this movement. Just then he
really had no time to give it a thought, no matter if a dozen wheels
were concerned. The fire demanded every atom of his attention.
Shea did get busy. Once he became stirred up, and he proved a valuable
helper. He went for the flames tooth and nail, smothered them with his
coat, regardless of consequences, after he had slipped that article of
wearing apparel off; kicked and tore and fought until it became evident
that between them they were certainly making a decided impression on the
threatening conflagration.
All this while it seemed to Frank that his heart was in his throat. Not
so much because he feared that they would fail to gain the mastery over
the fire as that some spark might find ingress to the shed and happen to
alight upon a can of the dangerous gasoline.
If such a thing occurred he knew that it would be all over. The hangar
must be completely destroyed and, of course, their little darling
airship would share in its fate.
So, even though he saw the end of the conflagration in sight, Frank knew
he had no reason to breathe easily until every spark had been trampled
under foot.
By now he was conscious of loud shouts coming from points near at hand
and realized that doubtless Andy as well as others had been awakened by
the racket and were coming on the run to assist. Had the safety of the
airship depended on their reaching the shed in time, though, its chances
would have been next to nothing.
Frank was just stamping on what seemed to be the very last vestige of
the fire when Andy came galloping to his side.
"W-what's all this mean, Frank? Where in the wide world did you come
from, and who set our hangar afire?" he gasped, almost winded from his
exertions, for he had dressed in about a minute, despite his trembling
fingers, and was barefooted even then.
"Don't know who did it, but he ran off on my wheel a few minutes ago. I
was on the way home--carrying medicine to Susie Lovejoy. Saw flames and
gave alarm. Got here on the jump and we managed to get the better of
it. But it was a close shave, all right, I tell you, Andy!"
Frank himself had no breath to spare, nor could it be wondered at,
considering the recent valiant fight which he had made against big odds.
"So the ornery skunks _did_ try to burn us out, after all!" burst forth
the other part owner of the monoplane, bitterly. "Say, where was Shea
all this time? What use was he as a watchman?"
"He helped me good and hard at any rate. Only for Shea I'd never have
got the better of it, I'm afraid," said Frank, always ready to cover up
any little failing on the part of another, though never hesitating to
denounce his own shortcomings.
"But just to think of the meanness of it all," continued Andy, shaking
his head in the aggressive way he had. "That Puss Carberry ought to be
shut up behind bars, that's my opinion straight from the shoulder, and
if I could only find out for sure that he was in this I'd get Colonel
Josiah to prosecute him to the limit."
"But we have no proof that it was Puss," remarked Frank. "The fellow who
stole my wheel went off along the road _away_ from town. And he
went licketty split, too, as if he had business over in Shelby or
Newtown. Perhaps it was only a hobo. He may have started the fire by
accident, and was trying to put it out when I saw him first. Then, when
I shouted, of course, he had to scoot."
"What's this?" demanded Andy, kicking some object, and then seizing hold
of his foot, for he had forgotten that he had no shoes on.
Frank uttered a cry and picked it up.
"Look here, don't you recognize this?" he asked, as he held a can up.
It was Andy's turn to give vent to a low exclamation.
"Why, it's our kerosene can, Frank!" he said.
"That's what I thought. And it is kept on a bench just outside the
kitchen door, isn't it?" demanded the other, quickly.
"That's a fact. And neither of us ever brought it here. Shea, did you
ever see this oil can before?" and Andy dangled it before the eyes of
the watchman who had slept on his post.
"I niver did the same, sor," replied the man,
as he surveyed the can.
"Then that settles it, Frank. The mean skunk grabbed that can and
fetched it over here to spray the wall of the shed with oil and making
the fire jump."
"True as you live," said the other. "Do you know, I thought I smelled
burning kerosene. And that was why the flames kept crawling up
everywhere so fast. Well, it was a good job that we saved the place. And
ain't I glad I didn't wait just five minutes longer at Lovejoy's
place. Nothing could have helped then, and we'd just have to build
another airship. But here comes the colonel stumping along, Andy!"