Ever since the twins had earned their Safety First buttons, they had
been looking forward to the Fourth of July, and on the eve of the Fourth
came an adventure far more exciting than any they had expected.
The lights were out in Bob's and Betty's rooms, and Bob had just dropped
off to sleep when the clang of the fire bell brought him out of bed in a
hurry.
As his feet struck the floor, his ear caught the rattle of gravel on the
window. The room was half lighted by a ruddy glow, and looking out he
saw Sure Pop standing below his window.
"Come on to the fire!" the Safety Scout called up to him. "Perhaps we
can do somebody a good turn. Bring Betty along, if your mother doesn't
mind."
Bob got dressed first and hurried in to help Betty. Her teeth were
chattering with excitement, and she could hardly button her clothes.
"Where is the fire, Bob?"
"I don't know exactly--a mile or two north of here, I think. Come
on--Mother says you may go, if you'll stick close to me."
The two clattered down the back stairs and joined Sure Pop.
"Bother that shoe string, anyhow!" panted Bob as they scampered off to
the fire.
"Better stop and tie it up," advised the Safety Scout. "It'll trip you
the first thing you know."
Bob thought otherwise. A couple of blocks farther on, however, he
stepped on the dragging string, caught his toe on a loose board in the
sidewalk, and sprawled headlong. But Bob was game. Up he jumped, gave
Sure Pop the Scout salute, and said, with a grin, "Sir, I stand
corrected." Then he tied the shoe string by the light of a street lamp,
winked at Betty, and the three ran on.
The fire was farther away than it looked, and not till they had reached
the hilltop did the size of the blaze fully show itself. "Goodness!"
cried Betty. "The German church is gone, and Turner Hall will be next.
And look at all those little houses in a row--they won't last long at
that rate!" Then she stopped and coughed, for the air was full of smoke
and soot, both from the burning buildings and from the fire engines.
Everywhere was noise and confusion. Half-dressed men and women stumbled
over the fire hose as they hurried along with their arms full of
household articles, trying to save everything they could.
A frightened sob fell on Betty's ears. She turned to see a chubby little
baby boy, toddling along barefooted in his nightie, the tears rolling
down his fat cheeks. "Mama!" he sobbed. "I want my Mama!"
"Oh, poor little thing!" cried Betty. "He's lost!" She caught the scared
little fellow up in her arms and wrapped him snugly in the folds of her
loose cloak. "Don't cry, honey. Betty'll find Mama for you!" And she
cuddled and petted him till he stopped crying and lay still in her arms,
peering out at the spreading flames with wondering eyes.
"I'm going to find his mother for him," said Betty. "He's scared half to
death!"
But Sure Pop caught her arm as she started away. "Wait, she'll find
him."
Sure enough, before long a young woman came running wildly from house to
house calling out, "Karlchen! My little Karlchen! Where are you?"
The little fellow popped his head out from under Betty's cloak with a
squeal of delight. "Mama!" he cried in his soft baby voice.
"Mama!"--just that one happy word, over and over, as his mother pressed
him to her breast.
The look on her face was thanks enough for Betty. Somehow the fire did
not seem so dreadful to her after that.
"How'd it start?" Bob asked a fireman who was binding up a split in the
bulging canvas hose.
"Fellow dropped a lighted match in a coat closet--house next to the
church," puffed the fireman, who was breathing as if he had run a mile.
He gave the hose a parting kick and hurried to join his comrades down
the street, where the flames were fiercest.
"The same old story," said Sure Pop, soberly. "Hold on! What's that?"
Bob and Betty looked up at the little old-fashioned window in the
cottage across the street. A small black-and-tan dog was standing on his
hind legs inside the room, pawing and scratching at the window pane.
Sure Pop put two fingers to his lips and gave a piercing whistle. The
dog answered him, barking wildly and running back into the smoke-filled
room, then to the window again, as if trying to call their attention to
something or somebody in the room with him.
"There's somebody in there!" cried Bob. "Come on, Sure Pop--wait here
for us, Betty!"
As they ran, the two splashed into a pool of water in a hollow of the
sidewalk. Sure Pop dipped his handkerchief in this and tied it over his
nose and mouth. Bob did the same. Then the smoke of the burning cottage
swallowed them up.
Remembering the dangers of a draft, Sure Pop carefully closed the door
after them, and stopped Bob from kicking a hole in the window at the
head of the stairs. They knew which room it was--the farthest window
from the front door--and flung themselves against the door so hard that
it burst open and they fell headlong into the room. The little
black-and-tan dog, barking more wildly than ever, had heard them coming
and was dragging with all his might at something on the bed.
Bob and Sure Pop, half choked with smoke, ran to the bedside. There lay
a little girl only five or six years old. Yes, she was breathing!
Just then the hungry flames burst in through the flimsy closet door and
came licking along the ceiling. Bob's eyes smarted and burned, and his
lungs felt as if they would burst. He remembered his Boy Scout studies
in First Aid, though, and threw himself beside Sure Pop on the floor,
where the smoke was not so thick. Together they dragged the little girl
to the window.