CHAPTER XII

AN ALARM OF FIRE

An instant later the motor boys could hear a crashing of bushes and underbrush that told them Noddy and Bill were in flight.

“Shall we take after them?” asked Bob.

“What’s the use?” inquired Jerry. “We don’t want to leave our boat. Besides, if we did catch them, which is doubtful, owing to the darkness, what would we say?”

“We might ask them what they were talking about,” said Bob.

The retreating footsteps of Bill and Noddy were becoming fainter and fainter. Now they ceased altogether.

“Well, I guess we may as well start for home,” said Jerry. “We can’t gain anything by staying here.”

It was rather late when the motor boys got home after locking up the _Dartaway_. They did not go out again until Friday afternoon when they started for a park resort up stream.

The _Dartaway_ was running to perfection, having been overhauled by the boys, the engine well oiled and some adjustments made. The motor was “finding itself” and was working more smoothly with every revolution. Obedient to helm and throttle the craft went spinning up the stream like some big river horse.

As the boys in the boat swung around a sharp bend, the turn being hidden by thick trees, they almost ran into a small schooner that was beating up against the wind.

“Look out!” cried Ned to Bob, who was steering.

Bob swung the wheel well around and started to reverse the engine, when Jerry sprang forward from the stern, where he had been sitting.

“Keep on, full speed ahead!” he called. “It’s the only way to avoid hitting him!”

At the same time he moved the gasolene and sparking levers forward, and, as the _Dartaway_ leaped ahead under the quickening impulse, Jerry steered to the left of the schooner.

His quick action saved a collision. As it was, the motor boat barely grazed the side of the other craft, and then shot out into the middle of the stream.

“What’s the matter with you fresh kids?” called a voice from the schooner, and the boys looked over to see a ragged man shaking his fist at them.

“I’ll have the law on you!” the skipper went on. “You’ve got no right to make a turn like that at full speed without blowing a whistle.”

“I guess he’s got us right,” spoke Jerry in low tones. “It’s our fault. Sailing vessels have the right of way.”

The man appeared to be all alone on the craft for he remained at the wheel, and no one else came on deck.

“You’d ought to have kept a little more in shore,” said Jerry. “Unloaded vessels are supposed to at this point as it’s deeper farther out, and the loaded ones take that channel.”

“I don’t care a hang about the channel!” cried the man. “You nearly run me down, and you didn’t blow any warning. If I catch you at it again I’ll sink your tin-pan of a boat if I get a chance.”

“You’ll not get the chance!” fired back Ned, turning to look at the schooner which was disappearing around the bend. As he did so the boy gave a cry of alarm.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry.

“Look at the stern of that boat!” cried Ned.

Bob and Jerry looked. Under the overhanging ornamental work was the name:

BLUEBIRD

“Nothing remarkable about that,” said Bob. “It could just as well have been redbird, or yellowbird or blackbird.”

“I see what you mean,” put in Jerry excitedly. “It may have been the ‘blue’ thing that Bill Berry referred to when he quarreled with us.”

“I’m sure it is,” said Ned. “There’s something queer going on along this river, and we’ll find it out sooner or later.”

They ran along for several miles, and were approaching a small village called Westville, when, as they came around a bend that hid from sight a straight stretch of water which led past the town, they heard shouts of excitement.

“I wonder what we’ve run into now,” said Jerry.

“Looks like a fire,” said Bob.

“It is a fire!” exclaimed Ned. “See, that barn upon the hill is all ablaze!”

Looking to where he pointed Bob and Jerry saw the stable structure, near a handsome country residence was spouting flames. About it a crowd was gathered, and the boys could see men leading out horses and running out wagons, carriages and farm machinery.

“I wonder where the fire department is,” said Jerry. “I heard they had a cracker-jack one here.”

“There they come!” cried Ned pointing to where a crowd of men and boys could be seen hurrying down a hill over which led the road into the village. In the midst of the throng was some sort of machine which was being pulled by long ropes.

“It’s an old hand engine!” cried Bob. “I thought they had a steamer here.”

“Come on; let’s go up and see it work!” cried Jerry.

The motor boat was run close to the bank, and, having been tied to an overhanging tree the boys raced up the slope toward the burning barn.

By this time the hand engine had arrived. It was one of the old-fashioned kind. Two long handles worked a pump mounted on a tank. Into this tank water had to be poured by pails, and from the bottom ran two lines of hose connected to the pumps. The hose was carried on a separate reel. In a few minutes the volunteer firemen, having gotten in each other’s way as many times as was possible, had the hose attached. One little man with a bald head and a fuzz of white whiskers on his chin was giving all sorts of orders.

Then two lines of men and boys were formed, each person with a bucket in hand, the files leading to a small brook which ran near the barn. From one to another the buckets were passed, going down empty on one side and going along filled on the other. As fast as possible the pails were emptied into the tank.

The men at the handles or “brakes” as they were called were pumping away for dear life, and soon a feeble stream came from one hose nozzle.

“Hurrah!” cried the crowd, and half a score of willing hands grabbed the line and started toward the burning barn with it. A little later, the pump having gotten in its stride, so to speak, sent a stream from the other hose.

Again there was a shout of approval, and the two streams were soon playing on the flames. But the fire had gained too much headway to succumb to anything short of the efforts of a regular department. The blaze mounted higher and higher.

“The house is on fire! The house is on fire!” a score of voices yelled.

Sure enough, some sparks from the barn had fallen on the shingled roof of the residence and there were several tiny spurts of flame.

“Let the barn go, boys!” called the chief. “Let’s save the house.”

Willing hands dragged the clumsy machine nearer the residence while the men at the nozzles ran back, and prepared to squirt water on the roof. Once more the buckets passed along the line.

Clank! Clank! went the handles.

“What’s the matter?” cried the chief. “There’s no water coming from the hose!”

The nozzle-men had climbed up on two ladders which were hastily reared against the side of the house. They turned the hose toward the spurts of flame, but no water came. The trouble was the pump was not powerful enough to force the fluid to so great a height.

“Pump! Pump!” cried the chief.

The men at the handles redoubled their efforts. For a minute or so a feeble stream trickled from the nozzles. Then, with a cough and a wheeze the pump gave out. It had broken under the unusual pressure, not being in the best of repair at any time.

“What are we going to do?” cried the chief. “The house will go!”

“Form a chain gang!” cried the owner of the residence. “Have the men stand in line from the brook to the ladder and pass the buckets along and up to the roof!”

“Good idea!” yelled the chief. “Hurry men!”

It was easy to plan but hard to put into operation. The buckets were full when they left the hands of the men nearest the stream, but when they got to those on the roof there was barely a quarter pail-full of the fluid left, so much had spilled out.

The volunteer fire fighters did the best with what they had, but the flames were gaining on them. The roof was afire in a dozen places. As fast as one spot was put out another would ignite.

Jerry ran to the disabled engine. He seemed to be examining the hose. Then he hurried back to the chief.

“How many feet of hose have you?” he asked of that excited official.

“About four hundred. But don’t bother me! What good is hose when you haven’t a pump? Look out the way!”

“I’ll tell you what good it is!” exclaimed Jerry. “Uncouple it from the engine and run it down to our boat!” and he pointed to where the _Dartaway_ was tied at the shore.