Looking in the direction indicated, Jack saw a wavering glare, and with a new thrill of excitement was immediately off on the run. The telephone exchange was one of the largest buildings in town.
As he came within sight of the new conflagration the flames already were leaping from the roof and roaring from the upper windows. Despite the heat, the crowd before the building was clustered close about the door of the telephone office, and Jack hastened to join them, to learn the cause. Making his way through the throng, he reached the front as a blanketed figure staggered, smoking, from the doorway. Someone sprang forward and caught the blanket from the stumbling man, at the same time crying, “Did you get them?”
“No,” gasped the telephone operator, for Jack saw it was he; “the whole office is in flames. I couldn’t get inside the door.”
Mayor Davis, the first speaker, turned quickly about. “Then we’ll run down to Orr’s and telegraph.”
At once Jack understood. The mayor wished to send for help from other towns. He sprang forward. “I’m here, Mr. Davis—Jack Orr. I’ll take a message!”
“Good!” said the mayor. “Run like the wind, my boy, and send a telegram to the mayors of Zeisler and Hammerton for help. As many steam engines as they can spare. And have the railroad people supply a special at once. Write the message yourself, and sign my name. Tell them four more fires have broken out, and that the whole town may be in danger.”
Jack broke through the crowd, and was off like a deer.
Farther down the street he passed another building, a small dwelling, burning, with its frightened occupants and their neighbors hurrying furniture out, and fighting the flames with buckets.
Down the next cross-street he saw flames bursting from a second house.
Then it was that the real gravity of the situation began to come home to Jack. Till now it had all been only a thrilling drama—even the bearing of the mayor’s urgent message had appeared rather a dramatically prominent stage-part he had had thrust upon him.