“Oh! I was always good at climbing and things like that,” responded Bruce, “and up in the country there wasn’t a boy anywhere around who could go up a walnut tree quicker than I could, or who dared go as far out on a branch as I would. You’ll find me all right in that part of the business as soon as you give me a show.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” rejoined the chief, “and it won’t be long before I’ll give you a chance to see what you can do.”
His few words had a wonderful effect on Bruce Decker. He had not yet dared to whisper to the chief the hope which he had cherished that he would soon be allowed to go out on the truck and assist in putting out a fire, and now it seemed to him that the moment was at hand when he was to have his long sought for chance to distinguish himself. He was in a merry mood that night as he bedded down the horses and washed the Chief’s wagon. How soon would he become a member of the department? How soon would he rise to become Chief of a Battalion?
Chapter V.
One morning Bruce Decker stood leaning on the chain stretched across the entrance to the quarters, wondering how soon he would be allowed to go to fires with the men. Ever since his arrival in New York it had been his highest ambition to climb up on the truck when the alarm sounded, and be off to the scene of action. But much as he desired to bear his share in the work of the company, he had never dared broach the subject to his superiors. To begin with, the rigid discipline of the department and the unhesitating, unquestioning way in which the men obeyed the orders of their superiors, had made a deep impression on the young country boy, and besides, he was eager to have them all believe that he was a sober, cool-headed, trustworthy person rather than a flighty boy, carried away with the idea of an exciting and adventurous fireman’s life.
The company went out on an average about twice a day, and while the men were away Bruce remained in the quarters, sometimes engaged in some light work about the place, and sometimes reading or studying. He was always on hand to help bed down the horses on their return, and to find out from the men where the fire had been. Sometimes the company returned in less than an hour, sometimes they were gone more than two hours, and once they had remained out all night, while Bruce sat by the open door wondering fearfully what had become of them.
To-day, as he stood leaning on the iron chain, he determined to ask from the chief permission to go out at the next alarm, and he had just reached this conclusion when his thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of his superior.
“Bruce,” said the chief, “I want you to take this letter up to Mr. Dewsnap on Madison avenue, and get an answer to it. Be sure you see him, and if he is not at home, wait till he does come in.”
Glad of an excuse to get out into the streets, for it was a pleasant warm day, Bruce bent his steps towards the address indicated on the envelope which he carried in his hand. A man servant answered his ring and ushered him into the large and rather gloomy library, in which sat Mr. Peter Dewsnap, one of the eccentric characters of New York, and a particular friend of Chief Trask’s. Mr. Dewsnap was a short and rather stout gentleman, with bright, clear eyes, snow-white whiskers and a decidedly jovial aspect. He smiled pleasantly as he took the letter, and then asked the boy to sit down, remarking at the same time, “You’re not one of the chief’s sons are you?”
“No, sir,” replied Bruce, rather proudly, “I’m a member of his company.”