“Some fire, boys!”
“Yes, we aren’t going to get there any too soon.”
“I doubt if we can save any of the old shacks if they get going.”
Thus spoke Ned, Bob and Jerry as they sat in the automobile, pulling the fire engine along the road. It was not as easy as Jerry had thought it would be, and he had to use the utmost power of his car, strong as it was; for the steamer was heavy, and the roads were of dirt. But it was the only solution of the difficulty, with one horse disabled, and no others immediately available.
“Can you make it, boys?” asked Hank, from his seat in front of the throbbing engine.
“We will make it, or bust a cylinder!” exclaimed Jerry, as he turned off the road into a cross street that led to Frogtown, the scene of the fire.
On chugged the automobile, and behind it rumbled the fire engine. The machine was not of the heaviest construction, or perhaps Jerry’s car, powerful as the latter was, could not have pulled it. But, as it happened, it was possible to move it along at good speed, and they were soon at the head of the street on which stood the burning structure.
“It’s one of the big tenements!” cried Ned.
“Yes, and it’s gone beyond saving, I guess,” added Jerry. “The engine didn’t get here in time.”
This was evident to all. The tenement, a long, rambling structure of wood, three stories high, was blazing at one end. Already about half of it had been consumed and had fallen in red ruins. The wind was blowing the flames toward the unburned portion, and it was only a question of time when it would all go.