  “A most remarkable story; but I happen to know certain things that fit in with it in every way. Boys, you have done me a great service to-day.” Mr. Mainwaring paused as he spoke and looked kindly and admiringly at the three Boy Scouts who had unfolded to him the story of their experiences at the old barn. The tale had been told as they strolled along the road leading to the engineer’s home, on a hill outside Hampton. It had occupied some time in the telling, and dusk was drawing in so that, much against their will, the boys were compelled to decline Mr. Mainwaring’s invitation to visit his library and see some interesting drawings and data relating to the Panama Canal. But they made an engagement to come at some other time and hear from the great engineer about some of the wonders that had been accomplished in the magic land lying nine degrees north of the equator—a land which, so far as the Canal Zone is concerned, has been turned by Uncle Sam’s canal commission into a land as healthful as any, if due precautions are observed. It was almost dark as the boys hastened on their homeward way. There was a meeting called in the Eagle rooms over the bank that night, and they were all three in a hurry to get home and change and eat supper. As they walked along at a brisk pace, the conversation naturally was chiefly concerned with the topic which they had just been discussing with Mr. Mainwaring. “I wonder what he’ll do about it?” said Merritt. “Well, as he said, it’s a mighty delicate matter as things are now,” rejoined Rob. “To make a hasty move might force the plotters to rush things before any precaution could be taken against them. Even to take Jared before the authorities might be premature, so Mr. Mainwaring said. I gathered, in fact, that he means to let matters lie quiet for a time and watch every move of those whom he suspects.” “They ought to clap the whole outfit in jail,” sputtered Tubby, “and give them nothing to eat but bread and water.” “The last part of that remark would be a fearful punishment to Tubby, all right,” chuckled Merritt, nudging Rob. “What a lucky chap Fred Mainwaring is,” said Rob presently. “Just think, when his father goes back to Panama he’s to go, too. His dad says that every American boy who can ought to see the Big Ditch before the water is in it, and that, even if Fred does miss some schooling, he will be getting some education that can’t be obtained from books.” “That’s the sort I’d like,” sighed Tubby, who was a notoriously unwilling worshipper at the shrine of knowledge. “How about a cook book?” chuckled Merritt mischievously, and then dodged aside just in time to avoid a blow from Tubby’s chubby fist. Suddenly, behind them came the sound of wheels and the staccato rattle of a horse’s hoofs tapping the road at a rapid trot. “Out of the road, fellows, here comes a rig,” cried Rob. So fast was it coming that they had hardly time to step aside before the buggy, which held two occupants, was beside them. The driver pulled the horse up almost on its haunches and hailed them as they stood in the dark shadow of some big maples at the side of the road. “Hey, you fellows! Got the time? We’ve got to make that seven-thirty train out of Hampton and my watch is broken.” Rob, and his companions, too, recognized the voice instantly. “It’s just seven o’clock, Jared,” said Rob, “you’ll have plenty of time.” “Confusion,” muttered another voice in the rig, that of the strange young man who now appeared to be Jared’s shadow. “It’s those Boy Scouts.” Jared picked up his whip and aimed a vicious slash into the darkness. It is not likely that he had any hope of striking one of the lads he disliked so much, but he intended it probably just to show his hatred of them in a graphic manner. The next instant the same whip cracked over the flanks of his horse and the buggy dashed off into the gathering gloom. “Whew!” whistled Rob, “so Jared is going to beat a retreat, eh?” “Looks like it. I saw a suit case strapped on the back of that rig.” “We ought to stop him.” “How? By what right? What excuse could we offer?” “That’s so; but just the same it looks as if he’s going to give Mr. Mainwaring the slip and join those plotters some place.” “It certainly does,” admitted Merritt. “I guess we ought to call up Mr. Mainwaring and ask him if there is anything we can do.” “That’s a good idea, Merritt. At any rate, having done that, we shall have performed our duty.” Hardly had the words left his lips before there came booming out on the night air a sound that thrilled them all to the heart. Clear and loud, with a note of clamorous terror, there came winging toward them the clang of the fire alarm! Stroke after stroke struck with a heavy hammer on the tire of an old locomotive wheel—that was the only alarm Hampton boasted. The wheel hung outside the fire house of the Vigilant Engine Company Number One. There was no Number Two. “Gee whiz, fellows! The fire alarm!” cried Tubby, pulling up short in the road. They stood breathlessly listening, while out on the dusk the clamorous notes of the steel tocsin went clanging and jangling. A thrilling, soul-stirring cry at any time, it was doubly so to these lads, members of a body enlisted in the cause of helping those who needed aid. They were standing on the main street at a point where the stores and business houses had given place to residences surrounded by lawns and trees. Out of the houses there came rushing men and women and children, all in high excitement. “Fire,” cried some of the men. “Where?” came back in a dozen voices. But nobody knew accurately. Suddenly a man, hatless and coatless, came sprinting up the street. “It’s the ’cademy!” he was yelling, “the ’cademy’s on fire!” “The Academy!” gasped Rob, aghast at the thought that the private school which most of the boys enrolled as Scouts attended was in flames. “It’s up to us to do something and do it quick!” he cried the next instant. “Merritt, run as quick as you can to Andy’s house. Tell him to sound the Assembly. There’s lots of work for the Eagles to-night.” A boy that Merritt knew was hastening by on a bicycle. “Lend me your wheel for Scout duty, will you?” asked Merritt breathlessly. The boy eagerly assented. “I guess they’ll need all the help they can get,” he volunteered as Merritt sprinted off up the street, “my pop has been on the ’phone and they say it’s a mighty bad blaze.” It seemed an eternity, but in reality it was only a few minutes before Merritt reached Andy’s home. The little bugler was just rushing out as Merritt dashed up. They almost collided. “Sound the assembly!” panted Merritt. “The Academy’s on fire.” “Wow! Wait a second. I knew of the fire and was going to get hold of Rob for instructions.” Andy darted back to the house. He was out again in a flash and sounding the sharp, clear notes of the assembly call. Then came another urgent summons, the quick, imperative “fire call.” “There go the firemen on the run,” exclaimed Andy, as several of the Vigilants dashed by the house. “Come on, Merritt; the others will all beat it to the fire-house at top speed.” “Rob’s already there, I guess,” panted Merritt as they ran side by side, balancing the bicycle. As they proceeded, Boy Scouts came from some of the houses and joined them. “The Academy! The Academy’s on fire,” they shouted. Against the darkening sky a red gush of flame leaped up suddenly. “Come on, fellows!” implored Merritt. “It’s going up like a pack of fire-works. We’ve got to hustle if we want to be of any use.” |
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