Fortunately, except for a little scorched paint, the car was undamaged. As for the fire itself, within ten minutes the volunteer workers gathered by bell and telephone and little Prissler's Paul Revere race through the village had the flames changing into a welter of thick, white smoke. The barn had suffered, but it was not beyond repair.
"I got in all right," Specs explained to the boys, "and I had a wet handkerchief tied over my face, and I crawled along the floor as if I was looking for a needle, and I generally acted the way a fireman ought to act. I'd been all right, too, if I hadn't bumped my elbow and then stuck my head up to see what did it. I must have swallowed some smoke or something, because I had to lie quiet till I could get enough strength back to finish the job. That was when I heard you calling to me."
"But I thought you didn't care about saving Sheffield's car," teased Roundy, who had come back from his bell ringing.
"I don't!" Specs flared indignantly. "But if I hadn't tried to help, I'd have been breaking about half the Scout laws. Just the same," he added a little viciously, "I'm going to tell Royal Sheffield that I wish it had been somebody else's car."
At this characteristic fling, the Black Eagles rolled merrily on the grass, winding up in an informal pyramid, of which Specs was the bottom layer.
"Look here!" said Bunny, suddenly piling off. "We had better find out about that later train."
It was Nap, arriving on the scene from his telephoning, who capped this remark.
"I called up the station," he said. "That's what kept me. The team was gone. The second train—the one we thought we were going on—was taken off this week. There isn't another on the schedule that will get us to Belden in time for the baseball game!"