  “Hugh!” called out Blake Merton a short time later, “did you see that light flash up ahead of us there?” “Just what I did,” came the immediate reply. “Do you think it could be one of the camp fires of the boys, a sort of vidette post, you might say?” further questioned Blake, eagerly. “There it goes again, as sure as you live!” ejaculated Bud Morgan at the wheel, “and, say, it’s a fire, all right—growing stronger all the while. I wonder what it can mean for us?” “We’ll soon find out,” remarked Hugh, confidently. “We’re advancing, and will come to a clear stretch in a minute or so, where the trees happen to be sparse, and we can see ahead.” “Perhaps, after all, it’s only some cabin alongside the road, with the people doing their cooking outdoors,” observed Bud. “I saw that done heaps of times when my folks took me down to Florida that winter I was sick.” Their curiosity grew by leaps and bounds as they proceeded along the road. The closer they drew to the scene of the illumination, the more puzzled all of the boys found themselves. Then suddenly it broke upon them. They must have turned a bend in the road, for just as though a wave of a magician’s wand had caused the picture to appear before their eyes, they saw it all. “Oh! look at that, will you?” shrilled Blake, aghast at the vision. “It’s a bridge afire!” “It sure is!” echoed Bud, staring as though he could hardly believe his eyes. “See how the flames are creeping along the wooden sides!” continued the Merton boy, hysterically. “Why, they look like red snakes, that’s what they do. Hugh, what can we do to get across that river if the bridge goes down?” “I can’t tell you just yet, Blake!” snapped the other. “Let her out some more, Bud. Never mind the risk to the old plug of an engine; we’ve got to get there so as to fight that fire, or we’ll be dished. I know what stream that is, and it’s a deep one, too, far too deep for us to ever hope to ford it with this car. Faster, Bud, faster, I tell you!” Bud Morgan never accepted anything that bordered on a dare. He had held in thus far principally because he knew Hugh would not be apt to countenance speed when it necessitated additional risk. Now he “let out another notch,” as he himself would have expressed it. The old car shambled along with dizzying celerity, making all manner of ridiculous sounds, as though protesting against such haste. Still nothing happened to indicate another breakdown; and at least they were advancing toward the burning bridge with accelerated speed. All the while Hugh was wondering what could have caused the fire. It was very strange, he concluded, that a country bridge should take a notion to start up in a blaze like this, and just when it became a most important link in their drive to the concentration camp. So they arrived on the scene. Bud was evidently for trying to run the gantlet with a mad rush, but Hugh called upon him to draw up short, which he did, stopping the car close to the near end of the wooden structure. “We might have made it, Hugh!” urged Bud, reproachfully, as though he regretted the cautious policy of the scout master. “But there would always be a chance that our gas tank would explode!” cried Hugh; “look how the flames are driven straight across the bridge by the wind. Then the fire is along both sides, so we’d have to run a regular gantlet. No, Bud, old fellow, we couldn’t afford to take the chances. Out with you all, and let’s see if we can’t save the old bridge yet.” “Go to it, boys!” shouted Bud, instantly on the move, for he was a lad of action, and never happier than when doing things. “Work on the windward side first!” ordered Hugh, with the sagacity that leadership in an energetic scout organization is apt to bestow upon any wideawake youth. “Here, snatch up these old lap-robes, and souse them in the water. If you beat at the flames just as we did when the woods on fire that time, you’ll find they can be mastered. Everybody get busy!” “Whoop! watch my smoke, will you!” cried Bud, starting off with a rush. There chanced to be some old lap-robes in the car that Bud had managed to secure, not of any great value, to be sure, so far as things of beauty went, but bound to be of great value in an emergency like the present. Each of the three scouts managed to secure possession of one of these, and it required but a brief time to submerge the same in the swift flowing and deep stream. With this soaking cloth in hand the energetic boys started to fight the fire, slapping at the running flames as they curled along the side of the bridge in long spirals that resembled creeping snakes. When three lively fellows get started at a task of this sort it is wonderful what remarkable progress they can attain. With each stout blow it seemed as though the fire that was threatening to demolish the entire wooden structure received a serious setback. The boys fought their way completely across the bridge, which was not of any great length. “Good enough for us!” cried the panting Bud. “We’ve licked that line of skirmishers; do we tackle the other side now, Hugh?” “One good turn deserves another, so go for it!” advised the leader, setting a pace himself that kept the others hustling to continue in the same class. Success is always encouraging, and, having found that they could get the better of those creeping flames, the three boys fought all the harder, determined to crush the fire completely. “A little more elbow grease, boys, and victory is going to perch on our banner!” Bud was crying, while he slapped that scorched laprobe again and again on the railing of the bridge, even mopping up the floor with it when occasion demanded. The boys were past masters at this sort of thing. They had served their time at it on another occasion, when the woods, catching fire not many miles from Oakvale, they had been called upon to help save certain isolated farmhouses and crops that were threatened with destruction. Breathing heavily, the three lads finally had the satisfaction of seeing the last zigzag line of fire succumb to the vigor of their attack. Still, Hugh would not be wholly satisfied. “Let’s go down and wet these rags again,” he told his chums, “and hunt out every crack where the least bit of fire hides, so that after we go on it isn’t going to spring up again.” “Might as well make a clean job of it while we’re about it,” agreed Bud, as he followed Hugh down to the edge of the river, there to immerse their “fighting togs” again in the water. As they walked along, carefully scanning both sides of the bridge for any evidences of hidden peril, Bud once more broke out, voicing some suspicion that he had evidently been harboring in his brain. “Hugh, don’t you think it’s mighty funny how this old bridge could get afire? Suppose a threshing machine traction engine could have passed over here lately; but, then, it’s too early in the season for anything like that to be going around. If a man on a wagon threw a burning match aside after lighting his pipe, would it start things to burning? Somehow I just can’t believe this is an accident at all.” “Oh! do you really mean you suspect it was done on purpose, perhaps to keep us from crossing this deep river, and making us miss connections with the camp?” asked Blake, apparently thrilled with the thought. “I’m certain of it,” asserted Hugh, positively. “I’ll tell you why. Just bend your heads closer here, and take a whiff where this rail has been only a little charred; what does it smell like?” “Why, Hugh, it makes me think of home, when the girl is starting our oil stove going!” “That’s a fact,” added Bud, gritting his teeth ferociously, “and somebody’s gone and saturated both sides of this bridge with kerosene, so as to give the fire a good send-off. Oh! the low-down wretch, what wouldn’t I give to have a chance to choke him.” “Try it again over here, and you get the same odor,” Hugh observed, impressively; “yes, and right there you can see where some of the stuff spilled, for the spot looks greasy. He must have had a can of kerosene along with him in his car for just such a purpose as this.” Each boy in turn dropped on his hands and knees, the better to take a “sniff” at the discolored spot on the floor boards of the bridge that had such a “close call.” As they once more regained their feet they nodded their heads, unanimous in their opinion as to the origin of that greasy mark. “Which shows that our good luck still haunts our footsteps,” Blake said, trying to smile happily, though there was a deep-seated look of apprehension to be detected in his eyes. Truth to tell, all of them were more or less impressed with the malignity shown by this party whom they believed to be in the pay of Luther Gregory. He was evidently bent upon earning the sum promised him in case he, by hook or crook, prevented the boys from reaching the mobilization camp until it was too late to secure that apology from the quick-tempered Felix. “Well, do we cross over now, and move along our way?” asked Blake, unable to conceal the anxiety he naturally felt because of these numerous delays. “Nothing to hinder that I can see,” replied Hugh. “I’ll drive the old car across, presently, while you two wait for me at the other side,” Bud said, as he climbed aboard. “Take a good look as you go, and tell me if any of the flooring is burned through.” As they crossed over, Hugh and Blake kept a good lookout, and reported all safe; so presently Bud, having coaxed the engine to start again after some effort, joined his mates on the further side of the stream. “I certainly do hope,” ventured Blake Merton, with a sigh, as he proceeded to settle down in his old seat again, “that we’ve run up against the last obstacle. It’s certain that chap can’t think up much more evil to turn against us.” “What’s coming now?” cried Bud. “I can hear shouts, and, Hugh, there seems to be men running around that clump of undergrowth alongside the road.” “I bet you there’s a village along there, and that the people have just discovered the smoke of the fire here,” advanced Blake. “They know about the bridge, and are coming to save it. They would have been just too late if not for us.” “They ought to give us a vote of thanks, then, for our services,” said Bud. “Listen to ’em shouting, will you?” continued Blake. “Why, it sounds to me like they were real mad at something. Hugh, don’t it strike you that way, too? Look at some of the fellows in the lead shaking their fists at us, just as if we’d gone and done something mean. Gee whiz! I hope now they don’t get the notion into their silly heads that we started this bridge to burning.” Quite a crowd was coming wildly toward them, consisting of men and boys, though there were also a few energetic women. Some of them carried clubs, and waved these in a suggestive fashion. “Sit tight,” warned Hugh, sternly; “it means that we’re up against it again. Above all things, don’t do or say anything to start a fight!” |
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