There was some mystery here. Fenn vaguely felt it, but he could not tell what it was. There was a movement in the throng, and Fenn’s chums were pressed back to where he stood.
“Here comes some more engines!” was the cry.
Additional steamers, summoned from an adjoining city, rattled up. The fire, which had died down, seemed to break out afresh, as the flames seized on new material.
“I tell you I’m going to find out about him!”
This was the voice of the man who had spoken of Mr. Hayward. Fenn glanced around. The fellow, who had a sinister face, was making his way toward him.
“Maybe they’re thieves or pickpockets,” thought Fenn. “I guess we’d better get out of here while we have the chance.”
He leaned forward and grasped Bart by the arm.
“Come on!” he hoarsely whispered.
“What for?” inquired Bart. “The fire isn’t half over.”
“Come on,” repeated Fenn earnestly. “I think Captain Wiggs may want us.”