He found that his care had been needless. The house was out of danger, and already the fire, in its march from shed to shed, had been met by the nozzle-men and stayed in its tracks. Two streams were playing on the barn, their water hissing among the red-hot embers. Other hose companies had arrived, and under the efforts the glare of a few moments before had sunk to a fitful glimmer.
Mrs. Miller and Maggie turned from their labors at the sink to the gasoline stove and made a huge bucket of coffee. This they served to the chilled, tired members of the bucket brigade, who were wet with perspiration as well as with splashes from the pails.
Ned now found time to recognize in the throng of helpers and onlookers people from far and near. The whole town was there—and had come, as the funny costumes proved, in a great hurry.
Hal and Tom appeared in breathless haste, and sought him out, and condoled with him.
“It’s too bad, Ned,” said Hal. “But I don’t believe that even if the hose companies had got here sooner they could have saved the barn. That hay made an awful blaze.”
“Why didn’t they come sooner?” demanded Ned.
“Why, they had the wrong signal,” explained Tom. “They went ’way off in North Beaufort, and then they saw the flames and turned ’round.”
“Didn’t you save a thing?” asked Hal.
“Just the buggy,” answered Ned, with a gulp as heart-sickness rose in his throat.