“Oh, get out! I didn’t tell him to do it; I didn’t even suggest it! Why, when that bell rang I was so surprised——!”
Bob had to laugh in spite of himself.
“Well, just at present what we’ve got to do is to get our things from the hotel before the irate citizens of this charming village discover that they’ve been hoaxed! And I move that we move faster!”
And they did. When they reached the hotel they found it deserted save for a sixteen-year-old boy, the proprietor’s son, who was evidently not staying there from inclination. They found him on the sidewalk, looking longingly toward where at the far end of the main street a confused rabble was pouring around a distant corner.
“Where’s the fire?” asked Dan.
“I don’t know exactly,” was the excited reply, “but it’s somewhere over by the railroad.”
“How far is that?” asked Dan.
“Pretty near a mile. And they say it’s a daisy! Maybe it’s Tompkins’s lumber yard!”
The Four heaved sighs of relief. Before Tompkins’s lumber yard was reached by the valiant fire fighters they hoped to be well on their road. Very quickly they rescued their packs, slung them on their shoulders, and, to use Tom’s expression, “hit the trail.” Once out of sight of the hotel they paused while Bob consulted his map.
“Cupples’ Harbor is three miles,” announced Bob. “That’s where we’d better make for.”