As soon as possible, Phaeton went down town with his drawing in his pocket, and hunted up the office of the chief engineer. This, he found, was in the engine-house of Deluge One,—a carpeted room, nearly filled with armchairs, having at one end a platform, on which were a sofa and an octagonal desk. The walls were draped with flags, and bore several mottoes, among which were "Ever Ready," "Fearless and Free," and "The Path of Duty is the Path of Glory." Under the last was a huge silver trumpet, hung by a red cord, with large tassels.
This was the room where the business meetings of Deluge One were held, and where the chief engineer had his office. But the young men who were now playing cards and smoking here, told Phaeton the chief engineer was not in, but might be found at Shumway's.
This was a large establishment for the manufacture of clothing, and when Phaeton had finally hunted down his man, he found him to be a cutter,—one of several who stood at high tables and cut out garments for the other tailors to make.
"I've come to consult you about a machine," said Phaeton.
"How did you happen to do that?" said the chief engineer, without looking up.
"A friend of mine—a railroad man—advised me to," said Phaeton.
"Clever fellers, them railroad men," said the chief engineer; "but what's your machine for?"
"For putting out fires," said Phaeton.
"One of them gas arrangements, I suppose," said the chief engineer,—"dangerous to the lives of the men, and no good unless applied in a close room before the fire begins."
"I don't know what you mean by that," said Phaeton; "but there's no gas about mine."