“What’s that?” Larry heard the voice at the other end of the wire ask. “Newton told you to call me up? Who are you? Larry Dexter, eh? Well, what is it? Big fire, eh? Explosion? Fifth Avenue and Broadway? All right. I’ll attend to it.”
Then, before the city editor hung up the receiver of his instrument Larry heard him call in sharp tones:
“Smith, Robinson! Quick! Jump up to that fire and help Newton. Telephone the stuff in! We’ll get out an extra if it’s worth it!”
Then came a click that told that the connection was cut off, and Larry knew that help for his friend, the reporter, was on the way.
The boy hurried from the booth and ran again toward the crowd that was watching the fire. There were more people than ever now on the scene, but Larry managed to make his way through them to where the same policeman stood that had let himself and the reporter through the lines once before. Larry resolved to find his new friend. He slid close up to the officer.
“I’m helping Mr. Newton, the reporter for the Leader,” the boy said to the bluecoat.
The policeman looked down, recognized Larry, and said:
“All right, youngster, go ahead. Only get a fire badge next time or I’ll have to shut you out.”
But Larry was not worrying about the next time. He was rejoicing that he had gained admittance through the lines, and was close to the fire, which was now burning furiously.
More engines arrived with the sending in of the third alarm, and several ambulances were on the scene, as a number of men had been hurt in the explosion. Within the space made by the ropes there was plenty of room to move about, but there was much confusion. Larry spied Mr. Newton as close to the blaze as the reporter could get. Then he saw him dart over to an ambulance to which they had carried a wounded man.