Chapter XIX
Behind the Broken Door
“You got what you went after, then, didn’t you, Rob?” asked Tubby, delighted to see the scout leader again.
They had gone off at such a furious pace that ever since Tubby had been anxious concerning their safety. While watching the advance of the devouring element, and the desperate efforts of the gallant firemen to try and throw some obstacles in the path of the flames, Tubby’s thoughts would constantly go out toward the absent chums, with whose well being he was so greatly concerned.
“Yes, it’s here along with us,” Rob told him.
“But, say, what about Ralph?” demanded Andy, suddenly noticing that the party he mentioned was absent.
“He came back with us, all right,” the scout leader replied. “Just now he’s trying to find the Chief of the Fire Department. You see, we couldn’t start trying to blow up this building here without his consent.”
“Land’s sake alive! I hope they get here pretty quick, then!” ejaculated Tubby. “It’s coming closer and closer right along. Andy and myself were getting ready to clear out of here when you showed up.”
Rob had already noticed this for himself. His nervousness came back, only instead of a fear lest some accident happen to the speeding car, he now had something else to bother him.
They could feel the intense heat where they stood. Sparks fell all around them, endangering their eyes if they ventured to look upward.
“Better turn your coat collars up, fellows,” advised Rob. “If you got one of these flying sparks down your back you wouldn’t like it much.”
“That’s right,” commented Andy, “an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure. Whew! just look at that cloud of sparks rise up! Must have been a building collapsed then to make the shower.”
“But I don’t see Ralph coming along yet,” complained Tubby, as he strained his eyes to stare down the street where the other must appear if he came at all.
There were plenty of people in sight, most of them onlookers who were fascinated by the dreadful picture presented by the roaring abyss of flames, though others were hard pressed firemen dragging their hose about in the endeavor to find some place where they might throw a stream into that old building just in the path of the oncoming flames.
Precious seconds were passing, Rob knew. He wondered whether he dared attempt to carry out his bold plan even without the consent of the Fire Chief. One thing certain, unless Mr. Megrue came along shortly, the last chance to attempt saving the mills would be lost. The fire was already close to the ruined building, and at any moment they might expect to see it burst into flames, for it must by now be getting frightfully hot.
Tubby gave a sudden cry, and was seen hurrying toward a wagon that, loaded with household goods, and drawn by a man and woman, both foreigners, in place of a horse, had just passed them by. Something had fallen off the load; it sprawled there in the street, and lusty yells announced that it must be a fat baby.
Tubby picked it up and hastened to overtake the man and woman who were tugging so lustily between the shafts. Then, having given over the child into the charge of its mother, Tubby gallantly took hold himself, and started to assist the man to draw his possessions further away from the grip of the fire demon.
That was just like Tubby, whose heart always beat in sympathy with any one in trouble. He would do without a meal in order to enjoy seeing a hungry dog devour what had been intended for his own consumption.
He did not intend going any great distance. After tugging for half a block at the load, he felt that he had done his duty. Besides, if Rob’s plan worked as they hoped, this section of the town would be spared, and there was no absolute necessity for any one fleeing to a great distance.
So Tubby came back again, blowing like a porpoise from his exertions. Ralph had not shown up yet, but Rob placed a hand affectionately on his shoulder and it needed nothing more to tell Tubby that his act had both been seen and appreciated at its true worth by the one whose good opinion he chiefly cared for.
“I believe they’re coming, Rob!” Andy announced, greatly to the satisfaction of everybody.
It turned out that way, and almost immediately the others also discovered the figure of their companion hurrying towards them. At Ralph’s side strode the tall form of a man wearing a glazed fire hat, and a coat that was supposed to be immune to sparks and flames.
“I guess that’s Chief Megrue,” remarked Mr. Jeffords, eagerly, “though his face is so black with the smoke and dirt his own wife wouldn’t recognize him. Yes, I know his walk. Now we may see something done that will bring results. I was just about to suggest that you go ahead on your own hook, Rob, and I would stand for the consequences. Desperate cases require desperate remedies, you know. But there’s no need of our doing that now, fortunately.”
Ralph piloted his companion to the spot where the others awaited them. Undoubtedly he must have already found occasion to explain Rob’s scheme to the head man of the local fire department. Mr. Megrue had been instantly seized with a conviction that it was indeed the only thing left to them, since all the puny efforts they had made to try and drown the fire out had been without avail.
Every fireman must know that such things are resorted to in all big city fires when the violence of the wind makes it impossible to head the flames off in any other way. Sometimes it turns out successfully; and then, again, there may be no tangible result, owing to circumstances over which even the use of explosives will have no control.
Rob saw with more or less pleasure that the Chief was a man of action, and not one of those old fogies sometimes connected with local companies, all “fuss and feathers,” but lacking in the dash and valor that should distinguish every firefighter.
Perhaps had he known where he could put his hand on a store of explosives, the Chief might before this have considered the possibility of blocking the flames by destroying that old connecting link of a building.
“He says it’s the finest thing going!” called out Ralph, as he drew near where his father and the boys were waiting for him. “As I know how to handle the stuff, as well as the battery, he asks us to do the job. Rob, I want your help only. Come with me. The Chief will smash in the door for us, and we can plant the charge in a hurry. Then it only means running the wires out to some place here, and afterwards you can touch her off. That ought to be your privilege, Rob, because you thought up the scheme. Right along this way, Rob, please!”
Perhaps Sim and Andy, not to mention Tubby, might have liked very much to be given a part to play in the game; but their common sense told them there was no necessity for more entering the building than just those two, unless Chief Megrue chose to accompany the boys. At least, they could have the satisfaction of being present when the big affair came off, and watching that ramshackle building collapse into kindling wood after the charge was fired.
The Chief fortunately had a fire ax with him. It may have been used to batter in the doors of many a building that had commenced to smoke, and give other positive signs of being about to burst into flames. Besides, it is always a useful tool in the hands of your country-town fireman, with which he loves to smash windows, and to make a grand show of accomplishing things.
Straight up to the door of the unused building the three of them hurried, the boys bearing the battery, the little cask containing the dynamite cartridges, and the coil of wire necessary to complete the outfit.
“The door is locked or barred!” shouted Sim, which remark told that he had, during the absence of Ralph and Rob, made a little private investigation on his own account, for it happened that Sim Jeffords was of a very inquiring nature.
This information saved the others from wasting any time trying to open the barrier. It also gave Mr. Megrue his clue, for, rushing directly up, he commenced to wield that ax of his in a way that proved him to be a born fire-fighter.
With every blow Tubby and Andy and Sim gave vent to a whoop; which helped get rid of their extra enthusiasm, and also showed how they appreciated the work of the axman.
“Go to it, Chief!” shrilled Sim, excitedly. “That time the chips flew, I’m telling you! Give it another smash like that, and you’ll see it go down. Wow! look at that crackerjack hit, will you, fellows? It’s an extra stout door, all right, but just the same it’s got to go! Once more to the breach everybody. So, there!”
The ax sank into the door, and ripped the panels up. Again did Mr. Megrue swing it back of him, and once more was that smashing sound heard, so pleasing to the ear of the listening and watching boys, who kept one eye on the little drama being played before them, and at the same time managed to observe the close approach of the sea of fire menacing the deserted factory.
Finally a shout from Sim announced that the door had been beaten open, and that the way into the building no longer held any obstacle to the advance of the trio.
They vanished from view, Fire Chief, Rob and Ralph. The three boys, together with Ralph’s father, had to possess their souls in patience while waiting for the reappearance of the bold invaders. At any moment now they fully expected the building to burst into flames, so overheated must the dry woodwork have become. It was an anxious time for Mr. Jeffords, who had seen his son disappear beyond that broken door. At the same time he knew that Ralph was capable of thinking for himself, and also that he and Rob would not attempt any foolhardy feat just for the sake of “showing off.”
There was a method in their madness in the present case. The welfare of the whole community hung in the balance, for if the fire could not be stayed by this master stroke of genius, then was Wyoming doomed; and the morrow’s sun would rise upon the smoking ruins of the entire town.
Seconds passed, and changed into minutes. When it seemed as though something like two of these had drifted along, every one was growing weak with apprehension. They had terrible visions of some evil having overtaken those who had gone into the building. It was old, and the floors almost in ruins, so that there was even a possibility that the venturesome ones had fallen through some unnoticed gap. Then, again, how were they to tell if some sort of insidious gas had gripped their chums, and rendered them helpless?
These were the kind of strange fancies that took possession of Sim Jeffords, always gifted with a lively imagination. He pictured Rob and his cousin lying there inside the old wreck of a factory, victims of a treacherous gas, and soon to be devoured by the oncoming flames.
Sim could stand it no longer. He must ascertain the truth, for it was always better to know the worst, according to his policy. He would rush forward and cautiously enter the building, groping his way through the smoke-filled interior, and calling out the names of his cousin and Rob.
Filled with this resolution, Sim had even commenced to approach the open door, paying no attention to the calls of his uncle from the rear, when, to his great relief, he saw figures bursting out of the structure. They were Chief Megrue, Rob, the scout leader, and Ralph Jeffords.