uld
save the town--only he put it in this way: "We'll have another Chicago
fire here, sure as you're born, unless it rains or the wind changes
mighty all-fired sudden; so we got to fight hard, boys."

Mr. Crow, also deputy superintendent of the fire-department, was late in
getting to the engine-house back of the town hall--so late that the
hand-engine and hose-reel, manned by volunteers who had waited as long
as advisable, were belabouring the fire with water some time before he
reached the engine-house. This irritated Mr. Crow considerably. He was
out of breath when he got to the elevator, or some one would have heard
from him. Another cause of annoyance was the fact that his rubber coat
and helmet went with the hose-reel and were by this time adorning the
person of an energetic fire-fighter who had no official right to them.
After a diligent search Mr. Crow located his regalia and commanded the
wearer, one Patrick Murphy, to hand 'em over at once. What Patrick
Murphy, a recent arrival at Tinkletown, said in response to this demand
was lost in the roar of the flames; so Anderson put his hand to his ear
and shouted:

"What say?"

Patrick repeated his remark with great vigour, and Mr. Crow, apparently
catching no more than the final word in the sentence, moved hastily
away, but not before agreeing with Mr. Murphy that it _was_ as hot as
the place he mentioned.

Ed Higgins, the feed-store man, was in charge of the fire-fighters, who
were industriously throwing a single stream of water from the
fire-cistern into the vast and towering conflagration. It was like
tossing a pint of water into the Atlantic Ocean.

"Got her under control?" roared Anderson, bristling up to Ed.

"Sure!" shouted Ed. "She's workin' beautiful. Just look at that stream.
You--"

"I mean the fire," bellowed Anderson.

"Oh, I thought you meant the engine. I don't think we'll get the fire
under contral till the derned warehouse is burned down. Gee whiz, Chief,
where you been? We waited as long as we could for you, and then--"

"Don't blame me," was Anderson's answer. "I'd ha' been the first man at
the engine-house if I hadn't waited nigh onto half an hour trying to get
the chief of the fire-department out of bed and dressed. I argued--"

"What's the matter with you? Ain't you chief of the fire-department? Are
you crazy or what?"

"Ain't you got any brains, Ed Higgins? My wife's been chief ever since
she was elected marshal last month, an' yo