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The Young Firemen of Lakeville; or, Herbert Dare’s Pluck
Chapter 23. A Brave Rescue
Frank V.Webster
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       _ CHAPTER XXIII. A BRAVE RESCUE
       "Run her out, boys!" cried Bert. "It's the box at Needham's factory. If the factory gets going it'll be the worst fire we ever had in this town!"
       Needham's factory was one where boxes for various purposes were made, and it was filled with inflammable material. The young firemen needed no urging. They sprang to their places. The bell on the engine sent out its warning note, as they wheeled the machine from the barn. The reel clicked as the long rope was unwound.
       "Come on!" cried Bert, as he took his place at the head of the line.
       "That's the way to run her out!" exclaimed the stenographer admiringly, as the boys swept past him.
       "I'll see you again!" Bert called to him, for the thoughts of the young chief were now entirely upon the fire to which he was going.
       "All right," answered Mort Decker. "I'll call around to-morrow."
       Out into the street rushed the lads, dragging the engine after them. The tower bell, with quick, sharp strokes, was sounding the alarm. The noise of rushing feet could be heard, as men and boys hurried toward the blaze.
       "We'll need the other engine, if the factory is on fire," commented Cole, who was beginning to lose his breath as the swift pace was kept up.
       "Yes," answered Bert. "Vincent knows he's to answer all alarms near dangerous places without waiting for a special call. He'll be there before we are."
       This was because the second engine was on the side of town nearest the factory.
       "Maybe it isn't the box place," suggested Tom Donnell.
       "I--hope--not," spoke Cole, laboredly.
       "The factory is the nearest building to the alarm box," said Bert, "but of course the using of that box doesn't mean that the factory is on fire."
       "Something is blazing, anyhow," added Tom. "I can see the reflection."
       On the sky shone a lurid light, and there was the smell of burning wood in the air, as the wind blew toward the lads. On they rushed, the warning bell on the engine clanging loudly, and mingling with the rumble of the big wheels. It was a fine sight, and one would have enjoyed seeing the sturdy lads hurrying along, with the brightly polished engine sparkling in the light of the four lamps on it, had it not been for the thought of the fire which was destroying property, and, possibly, endangering life.
       "It is the box factory!" suddenly cried Tom, as they turned a corner, and saw the blaze in plain sight.
       "That's right!" added Bert. "Vincent and his boys are on hand. Put a little more steam on, fellows!"
       Several of their comrades had joined them on the way, some not stopping to don their uniforms, while a few were only half dressed. It was easier work hauling the engine now.
       "It's got a good start," remarked Bert. "I'm afraid we can't save much. We'll need the old hand-engine, too."
       "Here it comes," cried Tom, as another rumble was heard, and the clumsy tank machine, manned by a score of smaller lads, came down a side street.
       The factory was blazing furiously. It was not a big building, but it was filled with dry wood, which made excellent fuel for the flames. A big crowd had gathered in front, and a number of men were aiding Vincent's lads in saving as much of the finished stock as they could carry out from a side door, which the flames had not yet reached.
       "Jump in and save as much as you can!" ordered Bert. "Unreel, Cole! Tom? take the nozzle as close as possible! I'll give you the full pressure at once. You'll need all you can get for this fire!"
       Vincent's engine already had a chemical stream on the blaze, and it was doing effective work wherever the fluid was directed. But quite an area was now blazing.
       There was a hiss as the gas began to form in the copper cylinder when Bert turned the valve, and an instant later a second whitish stream was being directed at the licking tongues of fire.
       "If--we--only--had--my--force--pump!" panted Cole, who had not yet recovered his breath.
       "Looks as if we were going to have it!" exclaimed Bert, as the old hand-engine was wheeled up, and the boys, with some men to aid them, formed a bucket line, and prepared to work the handles, while the three lengths of hose, including the one from Cole's force-pump, were run out.
       "Shall we start in, Bert?" cried Fred Newton, who constituted himself captain of the hand-engine company.
       "Let her go!" yelled the chief through his trumpet, for it needed a strong voice to be heard above the din.
       The young firemen were doing fine work. As it needed but two lads on the two lines of chemical hose, the others could turn their attention to saving property. They managed to get out a large quantity of the finished boxes, some of which were for holding jewelry, and were very expensive. Two members of the firm had arrived by this time, and helped in saving some valuable papers from the office, which was almost destroyed.
       The chemical streams were beginning to have an effect on the fire, which seemed to be dying down. The three streams of water from the hand-engine were also of good service.
       Suddenly there was a sound of a loud explosion.
       "That's in the varnish department!" exclaimed Mr. Needham. "Look out, everybody! There are barrels of alcohol and turpentine in there! They'll blow the whole place up! Better get back, boys," he added. "You can't save the factory!"
       "We're not going to give up!" answered Bert. "There is plenty of the solution left in the tanks, and we can charge them again in five minutes. We've got plenty of acid and soda."
       At that moment there was another explosion, louder than the first.
       "That's a barrel of turpentine!" cried Mr. Needham. "Get back, boys!"
       But the young firemen pluckily stuck to their task. It was so hot that they had to cease trying to save any more of the boxes, and even the lads with the hose had to move back from the fierce flames. But they did not give up.
       Suddenly there was a cry of horror, and a score of hands pointed upward. There, on the roof of an extension of the factory, that was just beginning to blaze, stood a man.
       "It's the watchman!" cried Mr. Needham. "He has his apartments there. He must have gone back to get something and the flames have trapped him!"
       "What has he got in his arms?" asked Bert.
       "In his arms? I don't know. Must be some of his things."
       "It's a little girl! A little girl!" shouted the young chief.
       "His niece! I remember now," said Mr. Needham. "She lived there with him. Oh, why did he go back? He was safe, for I was talking to him a few minutes ago, in front of the factory."
       "Perhaps he went back to get the little girl," suggested Bert. "But he's in danger now."
       The young chief ran forward, telling Cole to look after the engine. As he did so sheets of flame burst from the windows of the extension, on which the aged watchman stood.
       "Get a ladder!" shouted Bert. "It's the only way he can get down! Fetch a ladder, boys!"
       One was found, and quickly raised against the extension in a place where the flames had not yet broken out. Bert was up it in a second, while some of his comrades held the end on the ground, to steady it.
       "Come on! I'll help you down!" cried Bert to the old man.
       "I--I can't!" was the quavering answer, "I've got rheumatism so I can hardly move, and I'm stiff from fright!"
       "You must!" insisted Bert. "This place will be all ablaze in another minute! Here, give me the little girl! I'll carry her down, and help you!"
       "You--you can't do it!"
       "Yes, I can. Give her to me! Come on!"
       Bert took off his coat. Then he wrapped the little girl, who was motionless from fright, in the garment. Next he tied the sleeves together, making a bundle with the little girl inside, but leaving an opening through which she could breathe. Then, holding the precious burden in one arm, with the other he assisted the old man toward the edge of the roof.
       "Go down the ladder!" cried the young chief.
       "I can't!" complained the aged watchman.
       "You must. The roof is giving way! Quick!"
       The man gave one frightened look back, and then, trembling with fear, he started to descend the ladder.
       "Don't--don't drop the child!" he called to Bert.
       "I'll not! Hurry! It's getting too hot here!"
       The flames were now coming through the roof of the extension. When the man was part way down the ladder, Bert, holding the little girl close to him, started to follow.
       "Give him a hand!" he cried to some of the young firemen on the ground, and two of them came up the rounds to aid the watchman.
       The old man reached the ground in safety, and Bert, with the child, was half way down the ladder when, from a window, past which he would have to climb, there burst out a terrible sheet of flame. _