The blaze proved to be a bad one in a big warehouse. Quite a crowd gathered and Larry stayed to watch the sights. He felt that his mother would not worry if he did not come right home from school, as she had often told him he could remain out until ten o’clock if he so desired.
Soon the streets were filled with trucks and steamers and several streams of water were spouting out on the blaze. With fascinated eyes Larry watched the men at work. He saw a number of reporters for the morning papers chasing here and there.
Though the blaze was a bad one it had been taken in time, thanks to the prompt pulling of the box, and so the firemen after considerable hard work succeeded in getting control of the fire. Thinking he had seen enough, though he would have liked to remain until the finish, Larry started for home.
Pretty soon he left the crowd behind him, and entered a quiet street. In fact it was so quiet that Larry soon became aware that some person was walking behind him. He could hear the echo of the footsteps after his own, and, naturally, he turned to see who was following him. He could just make out the dark figure of a man.
At first the boy was a little nervous, fearing someone might be dogging him for no good purpose. He had heard that men would commit robbery for a small sum, and, though he only had a little change in his pockets, he was a little afraid that the man had an object in keeping so closely behind him.
“I wish I’d meet a policeman,” thought Larry.
But, like many other things, officers are not on hand when you want one most.
“I wish I could see who it is,” murmured the boy.
He turned around again, and caught sight of the man just as the latter came under a street lamp. Larry gave a start.
“It’s the man who has the rooms under us!” said Larry. “He isn’t following me; he’s just going home, the same as I am.”