AN ALARM OF FIRE

Palms propping his chin, elbows braced on knees, Specs McGrew squatted on the family's front steps, staring out at the street.

"I wish it was over," he grumbled. "Why don't Roundy and Jump come? Say, Bunny, if I had a five-dollar bill in my pocket, I'd give it to anybody who could pick me up right out of this morning and set me down somewhere to-morrow morning."

Bunny laughed. "Oh, the game won't be as bad as all that. Still, if you don't want to play, I guess we can persuade S. S. to take your place at short."

"Huh?" Specs twisted his head round. "Let S. S. play against Belden instead of me! Not if I know it! Just the same, I wish it was over, and down in your heart I bet you do, too."

The peace of a June morning hung over Lakeville, a quiet that was even deeper than usual; for not only was this the day when the Lakeville High baseball team went to Belden to play the last game of the season, but it was also the day of Dunkirk's great Home Coming Picnic; and a long excursion train, crowded to the platforms, had left the village at 7:30. The town was deserted. As Specs put it, "A cyclone or a fire could walk right down Main Street without having a chance to say 'hello' to anybody." In spite of the quiet, though, there were at least a generous baker's dozen of boys in and around Lakeville whose hearts beat hippety-hop whenever they stopped to think of the game that afternoon.

For the baseball season had gone well. The whole school year, indeed, had been a procession of athletic triumphs, first in football, then in basketball, and finally in baseball. Best of all, every last boy and girl in Lakeville High was ready to admit that the Black Eagle Scouts had done their share and more. In the beginning, of course, the patrol was a target for scorn; but gradually, as its members proved that the Scout way of doing things was a good way, and made for harmony and loyalty and the pull-together spirit that won victories, sentiment began to swing toward the organization until, in the end, it was pretty generally agreed that to be a Boy Scout was to be somebody worth while in high school.

With two championships stowed safely away, it was only natural that the baseball season should have begun with a hip-hip-hurray. With but two exceptions, every boy in school had tried for the team, and the lucky candidates had won their places only after the hardest kind of struggle. Of the Scouts, Roundy was at first base, Jump at second, and Specs at short. Bunny and Bi alternated in the pitcher's box. For the rest of the school, Barrett caught, Sheffield held down third base, and the outfield was made up of Collins, Kiproy and Turner.

Professor Leland had proved a most enthusiastic coach, and the lively competition for places on the team had kept all the players on tiptoe. The nine, moreover, had run on greased rollers. Buck Claxton himself had nominated Bunny for captaincy of the team, and by the best sort of example had shown that the leader's orders were law. With this spirit and discipline, the team had progressed steadily from victory to victory. Its one setback had come from a semi-professional outfit of Dunkirk, and that score had been only seven to four against Lakeville. They had beaten Dunkirk High, Grant City, Deerfield, Mason, Harrison City and Elkana. Belden, slated for the last game of the season, was not only the one team in the district that remained undefeated, but also it could and did lay claim to the championship of the State. To beat Belden, therefore, meant to round out the school year with pennants in three major sports.

"Why didn't Bonfire try for the baseball team?" Specs asked suddenly. "I've never understood that. He tried for everything else."

Bunny peered down the street for the expected Scouts before he answered. "I don't know. Bonfire's hard to understand. But he had some good reason; it wasn't because he was afraid to try."

"He's seen all the games and been at all the practices," said Specs, stretching his legs. "He has eyes like—like a fox. Do you remember that tip he gave me about the Dunkirk pitcher with his funny inshoot? But he hasn't even handled a baseball, not since Molly's picnic."

Specs was still chuckling over the memory when the appearance of Jump and Roundy changed the subject. Bunny hopped to his feet.

"Now we can start. We meet the rest of them at the schoolhouse at nine-fifteen."

"By to-night we'll be State champs," said the placid and confident Roundy. "I saw Molly and Mr. Sefton and Horace Hibbs scooting down the street in the Sefton automobile early this morning. They had streamers and pennants enough to open a store. I'm glad they are going to be there to cheer for us."

Carrying their uniforms in bulky suit cases and telescopes, the four Scouts started down the street.

"Everybody's gone," observed Jump, as they strolled down Maple Avenue toward the high school. "Seems a shame to leave the town like this."

"Oh, there are some chickens and a couple of dogs and about a thousand pet cats left behind," Specs retorted. "They can take care of things." He looked up the street. "Hello! Prof. and the others are waiting for us at the corner."

On the high-school lawn, opposite Grady's barn, the remainder of the team, with substitutes and a few others, were gathered. Professor Leland was looking at his watch.

"How about Sheffield?" queried Bunny, joining the coach. "Has he come yet?"

The man shook his head. "Sheffield's always two minutes late. He has seven miles to cover in that machine of his, but he generally waits till the last second." He glanced about anxiously. "We have nearly the entire squad here, and Ferris can play third if he has to, but I want Sheffield."

"I might wait here," Bunny suggested, "say, for ten minutes. Roy always leaves his car in Grady's barn, so he's sure to pass this way. When he does come, I'll get him to the station on the run."

The coach breathed a sigh of relief. "That's the plan, Payton. I'll leave the uniforms and bat bag with you, too, and you can pile them on Ernie Langer's dray when he comes. Then you can ride with him to the station and keep him from going to sleep."

Since the entire patrol had voted to go to Laurel, Bunny ventured another suggestion. "There are eight of us here who have worked together; nine altogether, counting Prissler, who is training to be a tenderfoot. If we all stay with the baggage, we can carry it to the station, in case Langer should be late."

Professor Leland considered. "Langer is coming, all right. But if I thought there was a chance of his being behind time, I'd let the squad carry the baggage to the station now. Still, your way keeps us from taking any chances at all." He paused to study his watch. "Remember, the train stops at 9:40 only to let off and take on passengers. You must be there on time. At three o'clock this afternoon, when the game is called, I don't want to play with four or five substitutes."

"We'll be there," chorused the Scouts, while Bunny and Bi carefully set their watches with that of the coach.

It was eighteen minutes past nine when Professor Leland and his players, minus the Scouts, started up the street toward the station.

"We can wait till nine-thirty if we have to," Bunny decided, "and then make the train by the skin of our teeth. But I hope old Slowpoke Langer and his dray come along before that. Roy Sheffield ought to be here now."

It was Mr. Langer, however, who arrived first, sleepily jogging his horses toward the corner. At exactly twenty-six minutes past nine he drew up beside the pile of baggage.

"Whoa, there! Whoa! Ain't been waiting for me, have you?" he inquired genially, as he removed his straw hat to wipe his forehead.

"I've been waiting for you ever since I've known you," answered Specs. "What are those horses of yours—one cylinder or two?"

Mr. Langer smiled contentedly. "You might not think it," he observed, "but these here horses used to be fire horses in Elkana when they was young. And they're just as good a team to-day as that pair of plugs they got in our fire station." He climbed laboriously from his seat, with some intention of assisting the Scouts in loading the bags and baseball apparatus into the dray. But as the boys were tidily finishing the job before Mr. Langer fully made up his mind about the best way to begin, he thought better of his ambition, and leaned one arm on the wagon and went on with his conversation.

"Take that fire department in this here town," he ruminated, picking a spear of grass to chew between words. "Why, it ain't run like a fire department any more than it's run like a church." He squinted thoughtfully at a pebble in the road. "Come to think of it, there ain't much difference between that fire department and a church. There's just one man of the Second Reformed Church left in Lakeville to-day, and that's Pete Mullett, the janitor; and there's just one man left in the fire department, and that's Dave Hendershot, the driver."

Bunny pricked up his ears. "You don't mean there's only one man to hitch up the hose cart and put out the fire?"

Mr. Langer nodded. "Yep. Dave was left in charge, with three helpers, and they told him they wanted to go to Dunkirk. And Dave was good-natured, and they was just volunteers, anyhow, and he let 'em go. Of course, I'll be around to give Dave a hand, but that ain't no way to fight fires." Mr. Langer nodded more decisively than before and plucked a second blade of grass.

"Coming late, the way Royal Sheffield does, isn't playing the game either," said Specs suddenly. "We have just one minute more to wait. It's 9:29 already."

Bunny verified the time. As Specs said, the missing player had but a single minute of grace before the procession started toward the station.

"He may get here on time, even if we don't hustle him up," suggested S. S.

Bonfire Cree laughed. "He'd have missed the Harrison City game if the train hadn't been held up on account of a hot box."

"He's a dandy, he is!" commented Specs. "Back before you fellows won that basketball game for him, I heard him say once that we Scouts weren't interested in anything except ourselves, but I notice he never puts himself out for anybody."

"Give him a fair show, Specs," Bunny suggested gently. "Remember, he isn't here to speak for himself."

"He'll be speaking for himself in two seconds," said Bonfire, pointing down the street toward a scarlet motor car which at that moment was tearing along near the corner.

Barely braking enough to turn without skidding, Royal Sheffield drove the automobile up the driveway to the barn; then, a moment later, lounged down the path to the Scouts.

"Make it fast, Sheff," warned Bunny. "We have just time to catch the train, not a second more. Throw your stuff on the dray. All right, we 're off. How about it, Mr. Langer? Can we all pile on your wagon?"

Mr. Langer nodded. Promptly, without waiting for the captain of the team to decide the matter, Sheffield scrambled up to the driver's seat.

"I notice you're making yourself comfortable!" snapped Specs, balancing uneasily on the side of the dray.

"Is that so!" Sheffield flung back carelessly. "Well, I'm following your lead. I notice you fellows have been hanging around to ride to the station."

"Hanging around!" Specs raised his voice angrily. "Why, the only reason we stayed behind was to—"

"Better cut it, Specs!" Bunny said decisively.

A silence followed. With much slapping of lines and verbal encouragement, Mr. Langer waked his fire horses and set them in motion. In time, even, they broke into an unwieldy trot, jolting and jouncing the stiff-springed dray over the ruts.

"Too much luxury for me!" groaned Bonfire. "I'd rather run alongside than be shaken to pieces."

He dropped from the dray, glancing back down the street.

"Bunny! Oh, Bunny! Look!"

He was standing in the middle of the road, jaw dropped, eyes bulging, forefinger pointed toward the corner from which they had come.

"What's the matter, Bonfire?"

"It's a fire—back there—by the corner! There's a house on fire!"