Meantime the fire-fiend continued to rise up ever and anon on his hind feet and lick up salt barrel after salt barrel in close proximity to the Palace rink, owned by our esteemed fellow-citizen, Mr. Pendergast. Twice Mr. Pendergast was seen to shudder, after which he went home and filled out a blank which he forwarded to the insurance company.
Just as the town seemed doomed the hook-and-ladder company came rushing down the street with their navy-blue hook-and-ladder truck. It is indeed a beauty, being one of the Excelsior noiseless hook-and-ladder factory's best instruments, with tall red pails and rich blue ladders.
Some delay ensued, as several of the officers claimed that under a new by-law passed in January they were permitted to ride on the truck to fires. This having been objected to by a gentleman who had lived in Chicago for several years, a copy of the by-laws was sent for and the dispute summarily settled. The company now donned its rubber overcoats with great coolness and proceeded at once to deftly twist the tail of the fire-fiend.
It was a thrilling sight as James McDonald, a brother of Terrance McDonald, Trombone, Ind., rapidly ascended one of the ladders in the full glare of the devouring element and fell off again.
Then a wild cheer rose to a height of about nine feet, and all again became confused.
It was now past 11 o'clock, and several of the members of the hook-and-ladder company who had to get up early the next day in order to catch a train excused themselves and went home to seek much-needed rest.
Suddenly it was discovered that the brick livery stables of Mr. McMichaels, a nephew of our worthy assessor, was getting hot. Leaving the Palace rink to its fate, the hook-and-ladder company directed its attention to the brick barn, and after numerous attempts at last succeeded in getting its large iron prong fastened on the second story window-sill, which was pulled out. The hook was again inserted but not so effectively, bringing down this time an armful of hay and part of an old horse blanket. Another courageous jab was made with the iron hook, which succeeded in pulling out about five cents' worth of brick. This was greeted by a wild burst of applause from the bystanders, during which the hook-and-ladder company fell over each other and added to the horror of the scene by a mad burst of pale-blue profanity.
It was not long before the stable was licked up by the fire-fiend, and the hook-and-ladder company directed its attention toward the undertaking, embalming, and ice-cream parlors of our highly-esteemed fellow-townsman, Mr. A. Burlingame. The company succeeded in pulling two stone window-sills out of this building before it burned. Both times they were encored by the large and aristocratic audience.
Mr. Burlingame at once recognized the efforts of the heroic firemen by tapping a keg of beer, which he distributed among them at twenty-five cents per glass.
This morning a space forty-seven feet wide, where but yesterday all was joy and prosperity and beauty, is covered over with blackened ruins. Mr. Pendergast is overcome by grief at the loss of his rink, but assures us that if he is successful in getting the full amount of his insurance he will take the money and build two rinks, either one of which will be far more imposing than the one destroyed last evening.