"That must be the fire," murmured Bob, in some excitement. "Great Cæsar! It's near the schoolhouse."
Dashing down-stairs, he quickly donned his overcoat and hat.
"Fo' goodness' sakes, what am de matter?" inquired Peter Lexington, the colored boy, in astonishment.
"There's a fire, Peter! Can't stop to talk now."
"Fo' de lub of goodness! a fire?"
The surprising intelligence seemed to deprive Peter of all movement, and before he could utter another word, Bob was off.
In a moment, he had passed between the tall gate-posts at the entrance.
The air was sharp and keen. Great banks of snow, heaped up along the sides of the street, shone brightly in the glare of electric lights.
As Bob Somers neared the scene, he learned to his astonishment that the high school was on fire.
Kingswood, a wealthy community, had an excellent fire department. It was equipped with a ladder truck and an automobile fire-engine, the motor of which also operated the pumps.