“Here comes the water-tower!” shouted several.
“Look out there!”
“Clear the way!”
An insistent clanging of a fire gong to the accompaniment of barking dogs told that some piece of apparatus was dashing along the street. The boys felt some one from behind thrust them to one side.
“Look out!” a policeman shouted in their ears. “Do you want to be killed?”
They shrank back, burying themselves in the crowd on either side of the way, just as the water tower, with the plunging horses foam-flecked and heaving, dashed by.
“They’ve sent for more engines from Frenchtown!” cried some one in the throng.
“They’ll need all they can get.”
“The warehouse’ll go next!”
“They’d better use dynamite!”