Well, now, mother, make up your mind if you're comin' along. Cora, what on earth are you doing out here in the night air with nothing around you? Now, you mosey right back into that parlor, and don't you make a move off that piano-stool till your hour's up. Do you hear me? No. Frank. I told you once you couldn't go and that ends it. Stop your whining! I can't have you running hither and yon all hours of the night, and we not know where you are. Well, hurry up, then, mother. Take him in with you. Oh, just throw a shawl over your head. Nobody 'll see you, or if they do they won't care."The apparatus trundles by, the bells on the trucks tolling sadly as the striking gear on the rear axle engages the cam. A hurrying throng scuffles by in the gloom. The tolling grows fainter, the throng thinner.
"Good land! Is she going to be all night? Wish 't I hadn't proposed it. That's the worst of taking a woman anyplace. Fuss and fiddle by the hour in front of the looking-glass. Em! (Be all over by the time we get there) Oh, Em! Em! . . . EM! (Holler my head offl) EM! . . . . "Well, why don't you answer me? Well, Ididn't hear you. How much long - Oh, I know about your 'minute.'
'Hour' you mean . . . . Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Conklin? Hello, Fred.
Pleased to meet you, Miss Shoemaker. Yes, I saw in the paper you were visiting your sister. This your first visit to our little burg?
Yes, we think it's quite a place. You see, we're trying to make your stay as interesting as possible . . . . Oh, no, not altogether on your account. No, no. Ha! Ha-ha-ha! Hum! ah! . . . Well, yes, if she ever gets done primping up. Oh, there you are. Miss Shoemaker, let me make you acquainted with my wife. Now, you girls'll have to get a move on if you want to see anything."The male escorts grasp the ladies' arms and shove them ahead, that being the only way if you are ever going to get any place. The women gasp and pant and make a great to-do.
"Ooh! Wait till I get my breath. Will! Weeull! Don't go so fay-ust! Oooh! I can't stand it. Oh, well, you're a man."But when they turn the corner that gives them a good view of the blaze, fluttering great puffs of flame, and hear the steady crackle and snapping, as it were, of a great popper full of pop-corn, they, too, catch the infection, and run with a loud swashing and slatting of skirts, giggling and squealing about their hair coming down.
In the waving orange glare the crowd is seen, shifting and moving.
It seems impossible for the onlookers to remain constant in one spot. The chief, Charley Lomax, is gesticulating with wide arm movements. He puts his speaking-trumpet to his mouth.
"Yoffemoffemoffemoffemoffi" he says.
"Wha-at?" the men halloo back.
"Yoffemoffemoffemoffemoff."
"What'd he say?"
"Search me. John, you run over and ask him what he wants. Or, no; I'll go myself.""Why in Sam Hill didn't you come sooner?" demands the angry chief.
"Well, why in Sam Hill don't you talk so 's a body can understand you? 'Yoffemoffemoffemoffem.' Who can make sense out o' that?""The hose ain't long enough to reach from here to the hydrant.
You 'n' some more of 'em run down t' th' house an' git that other reel.""Aw, say, Chief! Look here. I'm awful busy right now. Can't somebody else go?""You go an' do what I tell you to, and don't gimme none o' your back talk."(Too dag-gon bossy and dictatorial, that Charley Lomax is. Getting 'most too big for his breeches. Never mind. there's going to be a fire election week from Tuesday. See whether he'll be chief next year or not. Sending a man away from the fire right at the most interesting part!)"I'll go, Chief, wommetoo," puts in jumbo Lee, all in a huddle of words. "Ije slivsnot. Aw ri. Mon Jim. Shoonmeansmore of 'em go gitth'otherreel."Jumbo isn't a member of the fire department, though he is wild to join. He isn't old enough. He is six feet one inch, weighs 180, and won't be sixteen till the 5th of next February. Nobody ever saw him when he wasn't eating. They say he clips his words so as to save time for eating. He takes a cracker out of his pocket, shoves it in his mouth whole, jams his hat down till his ears stick out, and, with his companions, tears down the road, seemingly propelled as much by his elbows as by his legs. Why, under the combined strain of growing and running, he doesn't part a seam somewhere is a dark mystery.
Crash! The roof of the barn caves in and reveals what we had not before suspected, that Platt's barn, on the other side of the alley, is afire too. Say! This is getting interesting. The wind is setting directly toward Swope's house. It has been so terribly dry this last month or so that the house will go like powder if it ever catches. Why, I think Swope has a well and cistern both. Used to have, anyway, before they put the water-works in, and the board of health condemned the wells. Say! There was a put-up job if there ever was one. Why, sure! Sure he had stock in the water works. Doc. Muzzey? I guess, yes . . . . Pity they ever traded off the hand-engine. They got a light-running hook-and-ladder truck. Won two prizes at the tournament, just with that truck. But if they had that hand-engine now though!
"Up with her! Down with her!" Have that fire out in no time!
They're not trying to save the barns. They're a dead loss. What little water they can get from the cisterns and wells around -hasn't it been dry? - they are using to try to save Swope's house, and the one next to it. Is that where Lonny Wheeler lives? Iknew it was up this way somewhere. Don't he look ridiculous, sitting up there a-straddle of his ridgepole, with a tin-cup? Atin-cup, if you please. Over this way a little. See better.
They're wetting down the roof. Line of fellows passing buckets to the ladder, and a line up the ladder. What big sparks those are!
Puts you in mind of Fourth of July. How the roof steams! Must be hot up there.
O-o-o-oh!
