"There's Cole Bishop!" said Bert to his chum, pointing to another lad, who was running along, evidently much out of breath, as he was quite fat.
"Hello, Cole!" called Bert.
"Hello—Bert! Goin'—to—the—fire?" came from Cole, with a puff between each word.
"Naw, we're goin' to a Sunday school picnic," replied Vincent, who was something of a joker.
"Humph! Funny—ain't—you!" remarked Cole.
The boys continued to speed on toward the burning barn, which was one of the buildings belonging to Anderson Stimson, a farmer, and located just on the edge of the village. The crowd had increased, and several score of people were on their way to the conflagration.
"They'll—have—a—hot—time—putting—out—that—fire," spoke Cole, with labored breath. "They—only—got—buckets."
"That's all they've had in Lakeville since the time it was founded by Christopher Columbus," remarked Vincent. "It's a good thing we don't have many fires."
"If I had my force pump I could show—show—'em—how—to—squirt—water," said Cole, who had begun the first part of the sentence very fast, but who had to slow down on the last section. He was almost completely out of breath.
"Why didn't you bring it along?" asked Bert.