“The surgery is on fire,” replied Jack, hurriedly.
“On fire!” ejaculated Charlie, aghast. “Great Scott!”
“Come down and lend me a hand. I think I have got it under control.”
Thus speaking, he vanished into the building again with another pail of water.
Dr. Fox had caught enough of this brief colloquy to understand that something was out of joint at the store, and naturally he hastened to get into a portion of his clothes and rush to the scene of action, where he arrived almost as soon as his son.
The flames had obtained some headway before Jack Howard had got busy in an effort to subdue them; but his exertions had been well directed, and he had managed to keep them from spreading to the shop.
“Get another bucket or something, Charlie,” he shouted, as soon as he perceived his chum dashing out from the side door.
There should have been a bucket beside the well in the yard near the barn, but as it was not there now it is probable it was the one in Jack’s hands, misplaced by the German boy.
To get another, Charlie had to get into the stable or barn, as the building was called, and as it was always kept locked at night, the key being in charge of Meyer, who slept in the loft or attic, the doctor’s son had to wake up the Dutch boy, who was a heavy sleeper, by pounding like mad on the side door which opened on to the stairs.
He had to make noise enough to awaken the Seven Sleepers before one of the small windows in the loft was opened and Meyer’s big head appeared.