chief, not because tactics called for such an
action but because he was beginning to feel that he couldn't keep up
with the engine.

The cavalcade eased down to a walk and finally came to a halt. Every eye
was riveted on the burning structure which now stood out alone in all
its grandeur beyond the quarries and gravel-pits. Every one waited in
breathless suspense for the collapse of the towering walls.

A shrill, boyish voice broke out above the subdued, awe-struck chatter
of the crowd.

"Where's Mr. Crow? Mr. Crow! Where are you?"

"Sh!" hissed Alf Reesling, glowering upon the excited boy, who had just
come up at full speed from the direction of the town. "Don't you make so
much noise! The walls are going to cave in, an'--"

"Where's Mr. Crow?" panted the boy, a lad of twelve. His eyes appeared
starting from his head. A second boy joined him, and he was trembling so
violently that he could not speak at all. All he could do was to point
at the lank figure of the old town marshal, some distance back in the
crowd.

Three seconds later the two youngsters had the ear of Anderson Crow, and
between them they poured it full of news of the most extraordinary
character. The crowd, forgetting the imminent crash of the warehouse
wall, pressed eagerly forward.

"Wait a second--wait a second!" roared Anderson. "One at a time now.
Don't both of you talk at oncet. You, Bud--you tell it. You keep still,
Roswell Hatch. Take your time, Bud!"

"Lemme tell it, Mr. Crow," begged Roswell. "I knowed it first. It ain't
fair for Bud to--"

"But I got here first," protested Bud, and there might have been
something more sanguinary than mere words if Marshal Crow had not
interfered.

"None o' that, now! What's the matter, Bud?"

"Somethin' turrible has happened, Mr. Crow--somethin' awfully turrible,"
wheezed the boy.

"If you derned little scalawags have run all the way from town to tell
me that Smock's warehouse is on fire, you'd--"

"Oh, gee, that ain't nothin'!" gulped Bud. "Wait till you hear what I
know."

"I can't wait all night. I got to save Mr. Pratt's studio, an'--"

"Well, you know them two tramps you put in the lock-up yesterday
afternoon?" cried Bud.

"Desperit characters, both of 'em. I figgered they was up to some
devilment an--"

"Well, they ain't in any more; they're out. Ros an' me seen the whole
business. We wuz--"

"Geminy crickets! What's this? A jail-break? Out of the way, everybody!
Two desperit vil