“Oh, I guess not,” said Ted hopefully. “The wind isn’t blowing that way.”
At the time his father’s store was burning he had heard some of the firemen speak of the wind, and Teddy remembered this now.
“I wouldn’t want our bungalow to burn,” went on Janet. “If I thought it was I’d get out my dolls.”
“An’ I want my fire engine!” wailed Trouble. “I don’t want it to burn up! Oh, dear!”
“It won’t burn,” Janet consoled him. “Come, we’ll go home,” she added. “I see mother calling us.”
Mrs. Martin was in the doorway of the bungalow, beckoning to the children. When the sawdust pile caught fire she had come to see where they were.
“Come in out of the way!” she called, and they ran to her.
By this time a gang of the lumbermen were starting to put out the fire. There was a short length of hose from which a small stream of water spurted, and, for a time, Ted wondered where it came from, as he knew there were no fire engines in the woods.
“How did it start, Mother?” asked Janet.
“By sparks from the sawmill engine smoke stack, I think,” was the answer.