For years afterward, the boys used to allude to that season as "the summer we had two Fourth-of-Julys." The scars made by the bullets on the steeple were never healed, and you can see them now, if you chance to pass that way.
CHAPTER XIX.
A CONQUEST.
When, at length, Phaeton got an answer from the chief engineer concerning his invention, it seemed rather surly.
"This thing won't do at all, boy," said he. "It can't be made to work on a large scale." And he handed the drawing to Phaeton, and then turned his back to him and resumed his work.
Phaeton thrust it into his pocket, and walked out of the shop, quite crestfallen. When he told us about it, Ned became indignant.
"I don't believe a word of it," said he; "I see through the whole plot. The chief engineer has entered into a conspiracy with himself to crush out your invention, because he knows it would do away with all the fire-engines and hook-and-ladders, and the city wouldn't need a chief engineer any more, and he couldn't draw that nice little salary of a thousand dollars just for running to fires and bossing things."
"I didn't know that the firemen got any pay," said I. "I thought it was only a patriotic duty,—besides all the fun."
"That's just it," said Ned. "The men who do the hard work don't get a cent; but the chief engineer, who has more fun than any of us,—for he can choose the best place to see the fire from, and can order the engines to play any way he likes,—gets a thousand dollars a year."