"Come on, fellows. Let's
see 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, like
his companions, he had gotten ready for bed. Before the alarm had
ceased ringing (for it sounded the box number automatically four
times, once it was started) the engine was being pulled out of
quarters.
There were only eight boys on duty in the barn, and the task of
pulling the heavy engine up the hill to the Stockton mansion was not
easy. But, before they were half way there, they were met by several
of their comrades, who grabbed the rope.
"Come on! Come on!" yelled Bert, who was among the first to arrive
from 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 big
house, there was not a sign of fire.
"That's queer," remarked the young chief. "I wonder if there's
something 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 the
engine, Mr. Alfred Muchmore coming out of the driveway that led to the
big house.
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