“Hello.”
“Yes—Oh, hello, Long.”
There was a long pause as he listened. “Coming around east of Brown’s, is she? That’s bad, isn’t it?—Can we head her north of Mantrap?—Think we can. Well, I have the wagon here all loaded and we will leave here in half an hour with fifteen men. We ought to be down there in two hours. You scout her out till we come.
“Yes, I’ll bring ’em, good-bye.”
He hung up the receiver and slipped across the hall to call his wife. “Come, Mamma, the fire is coming in at the southeast corner and we’ll have to go down. You call the men and get the grub ready while I go call the boys.”
His wife was too accustomed to this sort of thing to be surprised; in fact, she had been prepared for it for several days. Sturgis, leaving the house as she started to call the men, hurried over to notify the boys and Professor Mertz, who inquired the particulars and promised to join them at once.
A few minutes later a prolonged, “Tur-r-r-r-rn out” almost raised the boys from their beds. A medley of answers came from all parts of the upper regions of the bunkhouse: “Aye-aye, sir,” “What’s up?” “Who is it?” “What happened?” “Is it a fire?”
“Yes, it’s a fire at the southeast corner of the park, and I want every man I can get. The wagon will leave in fifteen minutes. Some of you go up to the cookshack and bring the grub you find there down to the barn.”
He knew from the cries of joy and the general bustle that there would be no delay on their account. He grinned to think what a different reception his call for the next fire would meet. He hurried away to the cookshack where he found Mike, awakened by the shouts, already up and waiting for him.
“Where is she?” Mike asked cheerfully.