We had jumped her.
The fire was in the Novelty Works—an establishment where were manufactured all sorts of small wares in wood and iron. The works occupied three buildings, pretty close together, surrounded by a small strip of yard. Either because the firemen, from the recent demoralization of the department, were long in coming upon the ground, or for some other reason, the fire was under good headway, and all three buildings were in flames, before a drop of water was thrown.
Phaeton whispered to me that we had better get away from the engine now, or they might expect us to work at the brakes; so we dodged back and forth through the crowd, and came out in front of the fire at another point. Here we met Monkey Roe, who had run with Red Rover's hose-cart, was flushed with excitement, and was evidently enjoying the fire most heartily.
"Oh, she's a big one!" said he, "probably the biggest we ever had in this town—or will be, before she gets through. I have great hopes of that old shanty across the road; it ought to have been burned down long ago. If this keeps on much longer, that'll have to go. Don't you see the paint peeling off already?"
The "old shanty" referred to was a large wooden building used as a furniture factory, and it certainly did look as if Monkey's warmest hopes would be realized. I observed that he wore a broad belt of red leather, on which was inscribed the legend:
"Monkey," said I, "what's that?"
"Why, don't you know that?" said he; "that's Red Rover's motto."
"Yes, of course it is," said I; "but what does it mean?"
"It means," said Monkey, with solemn emphasis, "we have washed Eight, we can wash Eight, and we will wash Eight."