Like one boy the Eagles bent to the work. Off they scampered down the street, Andy’s bugle calling to clear the way. Men and women on their way to the fire scattered to right and left as the hose cart came lumbering along, drawn by its willing young escort at almost as fast a gait as horses could have dragged it.
“’Ray for the Boy Scouts,” shrilled a small boy.
The excited crowd took up the cry as the hose cart went roaring by, speeding toward the sinister glow on the sky ahead of them.
A throng rushed behind it, making believe to aid greatly by pushing the lumbering vehicle.
Suddenly a terrible thought flashed across Rob’s mind. The house occupied by the janitor of the school was undergoing extensive repairs and he and his family had been given temporary quarters in some rooms at the top of the school building.
The sudden realization of this sent a thrill shooting through the boy. What if they were caught in a fiery trap, unable to escape?
“Oh, I hope they are all right,” Rob found himself muttering half aloud as at the head of a line of straining boys he galloped along.
“Hey! Here comes the engine,” went up a sudden shout from the crowd behind.
Glancing back Rob saw the engine, the pride of the Vigilants, coming careening down the street. Its whistle wailed in a melancholy fashion and from its stack there streamed sparks in sufficient volume to render timid folks apprehensive that another fire would be started.
“Pull out! Pull out!” cried Rob, as he saw it, “here comes the engine.”