"Well, I can't say that we did it all," Confessed Mr. Appelby. "The boys did the most of it."
"We could have done it without them," asserted the butcher. "They were only in the way. We couldn't use the cistern."
"I guess it's just as well they got there first," went on the mayor of Lakeville. "This looked like a bad blaze, and if it had got beyond control the whole house would have gone. It's as dry as tinder, and a regular death-trap."
"Did you hear what started it, Mr. Appelby?" asked Cole, as he trimmed the lamps on the engine.
"Overheated flue, according to the housekeeper. I was talking to her, but a young fellow came along and ordered her to stop. I wonder who he was?"
"That's Muchmore," declared Herbert "He's in charge since Mr. Stockton has been away. He didn't want us to do anything toward saving some pictures, and he kept me from going in a certain hall. He's a queer chap."
"I should say so," commented Mr. Appelby. "Maybe he lost his head on account of the fire."
"And he lost his manners, too," added Vincent, at the recollection of
Muchmore's mean words.
"Well, the house is safe now," went on Mr. Appelby. "I guess we can leave. I suppose Muchmore can attend to things now. Let's gather up the buckets, Sagger, and go home. I'd like to get a little more sleep."
The bucket brigade soon left, and, a little while later, the young firemen, pulling their engine, moved off down the hill, talking over the events of the night. They all agreed that they had been more successful than might have been expected of a new organization.