“There it is! See the blaze!”
He pointed off to the left, and there a glare in the sky, which increased in brightness as the boys looked, could be observed.
“One of the tenements over in Frogtown!” exclaimed Ned, naming a poor section of Cresville where lived a number of foreigners who worked in the various factories. Of late a number of new industries had sprung up in the place, and the foreigners, who made up a large share of the workmen, were quartered in long rows of tenement houses, on the outskirts of Cresville, the place being styled “Frogtown,” because built on filled land, where once had been a frog-infested pond.
“If those shacks get to going there’ll be some fire,” murmured Ned. “And they’ll get a good start if the engine doesn’t soon reach the place.”
“Some one ought to send in another alarm, and bring out the other engine,” added Bob. “This one won’t be much good if it goes to smash.”
“We’ve no time to send in alarms now,” muttered Jerry. “Let some one else do that. We’ve got to stop those horses if we can!”
Ned and Bob clung to the sides of the car. This was in the lead now, and nothing was between their automobile and the swaying, rumbling engine.
Suddenly Ned gave a cry and pointed to something.
“What is it?” asked Jerry. “Another fire?”