“Forward! Double quick!” came the next order.
“We’re going to the fire. Out of the way, Boffy!” yelled the boys.
“It’s not for hire! Bring it back!” shouted the hard-of-hearing janitor.
“Forward!” roared Rob and Dale Harding in a breath.
Instantly the wheels began to revolve, and the ponderous machine came trundling out of the shed, and an instant later was being raced down the street, drawn by strong, young arms. Cheering like soldiers, the Boy Scouts dashed along. Old Boffy sprang back as the big machine crashed past him.
“Come back! Come back!” he yelled, as it vanished in the distance.
As Tubby had reported, it was the wagon house which was on fire. As the Boy Scouts came racing up with the engine, yellow flames were licking hungrily at its eastern end. A red glow spread all about, and the air was filled with the sharp, acrid smell of blazing wood.
“Here you, and you, and you,” ordered Rob, singling out three lads, “take that hose down to the brook. The rest of you tail on to the hand-brakes.”
In an instant the lads ordered to carry the hose to the creek were off, and it was not more than five minutes before the pumps began to suck. Presently, from the clanking apparatus, there began to pour a feeble stream. It strengthened as the engine got limbered up and soon quite a force of water was spurting upon the flames. They hissed and set up clouds of steam as the cold water struck them.
“Hooray!” shouted the boys at the brakes, but their leaders quickly silenced them.
“Save your wind to work the pumps,” ordered Dale Harding.
“The machine! The machine!” cried a voice, and Paul Perkins, pale and blackened with soot and flying embers, came dashing in among them. The lad’s hands were cut and bleeding.
“I tried to drag it out by myself, but I couldn’t,” he explained to Rob.
“Great Scott, I forgot all about that,” exclaimed Rob. “Come on, fellows, let’s get Paul’s machine out of there. I guess we can save it yet.”
It looked doubtful, however, if this could be accomplished. The flames now were leaping savagely up, but as yet they were confined to one end of the building. The wind, though, was driving them angrily forward, devouring the old dried timbers with the greed of a ferocious monster.