A flight of rockets was followed by some colored fire and a very handsome set piece. Then came triangles and flower pots, and another set piece, and then some of the largest rockets the committee had purchased. The latter went up with a rush and a roar that made Ruth shrink back in momentary alarm.
“I don’t like that—it looks dangerous,” said she.
“It is not as dangerous as it is for those boys to be running around with blazing brushwood,” answered her brother. “The constable ought to stop them. They may set something or somebody on fire.”
“Wouldn’t one of those rockets set something on fire if it came down while it was still burning, Frank?”
“To be sure. We haven’t had rain in so long all the roofs around here are pretty dry.”
For the end of the celebration there was a set piece of the President of the United States, and as this lit up there was a wild cheering and hurrahing, which was changed to a sudden cry of alarm as a man yelled “Fire!” at the top of his lungs.
“Fire? Where is the fire?” asked several.
“He means the fireworks,” said one onlooker, and several laughed at the joke.
“Fire! fire!” continued the other man. “The feed store is on fire!”
“The feed store?” repeated Frank, with a start. “Can he mean our place?”