Frank knew this. He had lived in cities where the sound of the clanging gong of a fire engine scarcely awakened passing notice; but now he was in a small country town, and it was different.
He had not exerted himself to the utmost for some time, and, with something like a feeling of exultation at the opportunity, he sped along the road.
“Fire!”
The cry sounded nearer. He was in the border of the village, and he thought he saw a red glow ahead and to the right. He turned a corner and sped onward.
Soon he came upon others who were running in the same direction. And then, after a little, he located the red glow beyond a doubt.
Lights were flashing in the windows of the houses, showing that the inhabitants had been awakened and were rising hastily.
“Where is it?” asked a man who dashed out from one of the houses.
“Don’t know,” Merry answered, and sped onward.
“It must be Rufus Gray’s house!” shouted a man who was running and puffing along the street.
Frank said nothing, but passed him like the wind.