CHAPTER XX
A FALSE ALARM
What a demonstration awaited the victors when they trundled theirengine back to the grove! It seemed that every man from Lakevillewanted to shake hands with the boys.
"You've done the town more good than if you gave it a marblemonument!" exclaimed Mayor Appelby, enthusiastically, as he greetedHerbert. "You've woke our sleepy village up, and I look for bettertimes now. I'm going to run for mayor again. It's an honor."
"We'll see who'll be mayor," murmured Moses Sagger, who had come tothe picnic after all. "If them boys think they can run things they'llfind themselves very much mistaken."
The other engine companies, now that the fires were out, returned tothe grove. They gathered around Bert and his lads, while Mr. Bergman,with a neat little speech, presented the young chief with a handsomesilver trumpet.
"And while I wish you all success," he said in conclusion, "I alsohope that through this trumpet you may give the order 'Take up' asquickly at every fire which occurs in Lakeville, as you did it to-dayin this contest. You boys certainly worked fast, and I believe the'devouring element,' as the poets call it, will take a back seat, nowthat we have such an efficient department to handle our two chemicalengines."
"Hurrah for Lakeville!" yelled half a hundred voices.
"Three cheers for Mr. Bergman!" shouted others.
"Three cheers for the boys with the hand engine!" proposed Bert, forhe wanted to encourage the little chaps.
"They couldn't have put that fire out if it hadn't been for myforce-pump!" murmured Cole, amid the cheers that followed.
"Say, if you mention force-pump again to-day," threatened Tom Donnell,"we'll stand you up in front of it, and douse you good."
"Well, it's a fine pump," retorted Cole, taking care to get beyondTom's reach.
There was more cheering and applause, the unfortunate Weedsport crewbeing given an extra cheer to make up for the bad luck it hadencountered.
There were more games, a great dinner, some speech-making by the men,additional athletic contests among the firemen, and the picnic wasbrought to a close.
"Line up, Lakeville!" cried Herbert, through his trumpet. The boysmanned the ropes of the three engines, including the old hand affair.They made a brilliant picture in their red shirts, blue trousers andshining helmets, and Bert proudly carried the glistening trophy whereit would show to the best advantage.
With final cheers for each other the four fire departments separated,to march to their respective villages. It had been a great day, and,as Mr. Bergman had said, Lakeville had taken several steps forward inthe way of progress.
"Well, we didn't do so bad," remarked Vincent to Bert, as they were ontheir way along the home road.
"No," replied the young chief, "but there's one thing we've got tolook out for."
"What's that?"
"We must not use so much of the solution out of the tank. A smallstream will do as much work, and it will last longer."
"That's so. We can't fill the tanks up very well while a fire is inprogress."
"That's it. This afternoon, if the blaze had lasted a few minuteslonger, there wouldn't have been any chemicals to squirt on it. It wasmy fault. I opened the valve too wide. We must remember that when wehave a real fire."
As the young firemen entered the village, many, who had been to thepicnic, but had come home early, crowded out to see them. The bells onthe three engines clanged out in peals of victory, and when Bertstarted up a song, his comrades joined in with him.
As the two companies separated, one to go to the town hall, and theother to Cole's barn, a man stepped from the crowd, and approachedBert.
"Well, I see you won," he remarked pleasantly, and the young chief,looking up, saw the tramp he had rescued from the water.
"Yes. Were you there?"
"I saw the final contest. Couldn't get away to spend the whole day,though I would have liked to. I had to work."
"Where are you working? In town here?" asked Bert, for he was quiteinterested in the young man.
"Yes, I'm employed at the Stockton mansion."
"At the Stockton mansion?" repeated Bert, greatly surprised. What hehad heard regarding that mysterious house came freshly to his mind."Why, I didn't know there was any business being done there,Mr.--er--Mr. ah--"
He paused, for it just occurred to him that he did not know thetramp's name.
The tramp--no, we shall call him that no more, for he was no longer ofthat class--the man, then, smiled.
"Decker is my name," he said. "Mortimer Decker, though most of myfriends--what few I have left--call me Mort. As I consider you afriend of mine, you may do so, Herbert. You see I know your name, foryou're sort of a public character."
"I don't know about that, but I'm glad you've gotten a place, Mort."
"Yes, after my little experience in the brook I decided to get somework to do here if possible. I heard that the man who lived in thatbig mansion was rich, and I thought he might want a private secretary,or a stenographer and typewriter. I learned who lived there, but whenI inquired at the place an old woman said Mr. Stockton had gone away."
"I believe he has, but there seems to be something queer about it,"said Bert. "No one saw him go, and, though he never used to be seenmuch around the village, still we did have occasional glimpses of him.Now no one has seen him for some time."
"So it appears. But the old woman--Blarcum, she said her namewas--called a young man to talk to me. He was Alfred Muchmore, Mr.Stockton's nephew, and, after I had told him what I could do, heengaged me."
"I didn't think he had any work you could do," said Bert, recallingthe rumor he had heard, that Muchmore was a professional gambler.
"Well, he has quite a lot of business papers to copy, and I am doingthat for him. He pays me well. Still, I can't say that I altogetherlike the place."
"Why not?"
Mort Decker came closer to Herbert, though no one was then near them,the boys of the department being too interested in cleaning theengine, refilling it, and putting it in the barn, to pay attention toanything else.
"There's something queer about that house," said Mort in a whisper.
"Queer? How do you mean?"
"Well, Muchmore seems afraid that I will go into some rooms where Ihave no business. Once I was going down a long corridor, when hecalled me back, and said those were his private apartments, and no onewas allowed there. Then, again, I was just going into a room that theold housekeeper said contained fine paintings, for I am very fond ofpictures, but Mr. Muchmore thrust me back, and seemed quite excited.Then, too, the housekeeper seems very much afraid of the young nephew.I believe there is some secret connected with that house."
"So do I," declared Bert, and he told Mort of his experience when thefire had occurred.
"I'll keep my eyes open, and see if I can learn anything," promisedthe stenographer. "If I hear anything I'll let you know. I can'tinvite you to call and see me, for I'm afraid Muchmore wouldn't likeit. But the first chance I get I'll come down and see you."
"I wish you would," replied Bert. "You'll generally find me at one ofthe engine houses, at least until school opens. Then I've got to beginmy studies again."
"Well, good-bye," said Mort, as he left, while Bert went to the barn,to see that the chemical tank was properly filled, in readiness for analarm.
As yet, beyond the one blaze in a small shed in the village, theengines had not been tested at a real fire, nor had the new alarmsystem been called on to show how much of an aid it was in enablingthe department to respond quickly. Several boxes had been installed indifferent parts of the town, all running to the two fire-houses, asthe basement of the town hall and Cole's barn were designated. Bymeans of a simple switchboard arrangement, and a code of signals,given on a gong, it could be told at once which box was pulled. Inaddition the new bell on the tall steel tower would ring an alarm toawaken those members of the department who were asleep at home.
There was a short meeting of the fire department on
e night, in Cole'sbarn, where various matters were talked over, and the boys had notdispersed more than an hour, when there sounded an alarm from thetower. At the same time there rang out on the apparatus in Cole'sbarn, the number of a box located near the Stockton mansion.
"There's another fire at the house of mystery," cried Cole, for theboys had given the mansion that designation. "Come on, fellows. Let'ssee if we can't do better this time than we did with our hand engine."
While he was speaking he was drawing on his rubber boots, for, likehis companions, he had gotten ready for bed. Before the alarm hadceased ringing (for it sounded the box number automatically fourtimes, once it was started) the engine was being pulled out ofquarters.
There were only eight boys on duty in the barn, and the task ofpulling the heavy engine up the hill to the Stockton mansion was noteasy. But, before they were half way there, they were met by severalof their comrades, who grabbed the rope.
"Come on! Come on!" yelled Bert, who was among the first to arrivefrom home. "Don't let the fire get too much of a start!"
They toiled on, and, as they rounded a and came in sight of the bighouse, there was not a sign of fire.
"That's queer," remarked the young chief. "I wonder if there'ssomething wrong with the signal apparatus."
"What's the matter, boys? Out for a practice drill?" asked a voice,and Herbert and his chums saw, in the glare from the lamps on theengine, Mr. Alfred Muchmore coming out of the driveway that led to thebig house.
"We came in response to a fire alarm," said Bert, "but I don't see anyblaze."
"Blaze? There isn't any. I don't understand it. I don't want you boysaround here. You'd better leave."
That was rather queer, coming from a man to whom they expected to beof service. Bert and his chums were puzzled.
"False alarm! False alarm!" suddenly yelled a voice from the bushesthat lined the roadway. "I sent it in, you old miser, to get even withyou! Maybe you'll say 'Thanks' next time, Mr. Muchmore, when we putout a real fire in your place," and a lad, whom Bert recognized asrather an undesirable character about the village, dashed from theshrubbery, and ran off down the road, laughing at the trick he hadplayed.
The Young Firemen of Lakeville; Or, Herbert Dare's Pluck Page 20
