"Well, it ought to come out of the town treasury," went on the butcher. "Taxes is high enough now. Maybe we could get an engine cheap, somewhere."
"What's the matter with paying the boys for theirs?" asked the mayor.
"No, we want men to run the department," objected the butcher.
"Those boys are as good as men," asserted Mr. Appelby, as he watched the lads, under Bert's direction, take up their hose and get the engine in shape for returning to quarters. "I guess old Sagger is afraid his taxes will go up. But we do need a regular department," he added to himself.
As Bert was getting the boys together to haul the engine back to the barn, he was approached by a man who emerged from the crowd.
"You did fine work," the man said, in a low voice.
Bert looked at him. It was the tramp stenographer he had pulled from the brook.
"How do you do!" the boy exclaimed. "How are you getting on?"
"First rate. I braced up after I met you. Guess that little bath did me good. I did some odd jobs for the farmers around here, and my health is better. Here's that quarter back."
"I don't want it."