The chief felt the uselessness of making any comments, especially as Mr. Jones was in the crowd, and confirmed what his son said.
“But I certainly didn’t know he intended to burn it at night,” said Bateye’s father, “or I would have prevented him. However it’s done, and I’m glad the barn is gone. And if the firemen think—”
“Oh, that’s all right, Mr. Jones,” said one of the red-shirts with a laugh. “We were getting too fat lying around. The run did us good.”
It was not long ere the barn was but a heap of glowing embers and then the chief, calling hoarsely through his new trumpet, ordered the apparatus to “take up” though there was little to take up, and the department slowly went back to headquarters. The crowd followed, talking excitedly of what had happened.
“I guess you fellows won’t take after us next time; will you?” asked Cap of Beantoe and Spider, as the two lads passed by.
“Humph! You just wait; that’s all!” threatened Beantoe, vaguely. “We’ll get square with you yet!”
“That’s what,” added Spider, striding along on his thin legs.
“They’ve got to think up something mighty soon,” said Bill, as he and his brothers and their chums turned down a street that led to their homes. “We’re going off to school in about three weeks.”
“Not before the close of the ball season, though; are you?” asked Bateye anxiously. “We can’t win the championship if you go.”
“Oh, we’ll finish out the season on the nine,” promised Cap. “And I guess our team will win, if you don’t make any more wild throws.”