"Here she comes!" cried Bert, as he turned the valve.
A second later a white, foamy stream jetted from the nozzle, and sprayed into the midst of the blaze. The flames began to die down as if by magic.
But Vincent was not a second behind Bert in getting his machine into operation.
"Lively, boys!" he cried, and the hose was unreeled, the stream playing almost at the same instant as was Bert's.
The spectators set up a cheer. This was something few of them had seen. The chemical engines were proving what they could do. Whether the blaze at which Vincent's crew directed their stream was not as fierce as the other was not disclosed, but in spite of the fact that Bert's engine was the first in operation by a narrow margin, the blaze Vincent was fighting began to die down quicker.
"We'll win!" cried Vincent. "Our fire's out, and theirs is blazing good yet!"
A few seconds later, however, Tom Donnell had succeeded in taming the last of the leaping flames.
"Now, boys, tear her apart!" ordered Bert, and the lads with the long hooks began scattering the still glowing embers of the boards that had formed the shack. As soon as they did so, parts of the shed not touched by the chemical, began to blaze.
"Douse her, Tom!" cried the young chief, and Tom did so with good effect.
Meanwhile Vincent's crowd, thinking they had put their fire out, had turned away, while Vincent shut off the valve that controlled the outlet from the tank. No sooner had this been done than the fire in their shack blazed up again.