Tuscaroras came in an
impetuous sweep down Niagara Avenue. Meanwhile the machine of the
hook-and-ladder experts from across the creek was spinning on its way.
The chief of the fire department had been playing poker in the rear
room of Whiteley's cigar-store, but at the first breath of the alarm
he sprang through the door like a man escaping with the kitty.

In Whilomville, on these occasions, there was always a number of
people who instantly turned their attention to the bells in the
churches and school-houses. The bells not only emphasized the alarm,
but it was the habit to send these sounds rolling across the sky in a
stirring brazen uproar until the flames were practically vanquished.
There was also a kind of rivalry as to which bell should be made to
produce the greatest din. Even the Valley Church, four miles away
among the farms, had heard the voices of its brethren, and immediately
added a quaint little yelp.

Dr. Trescott had been driving homeward, slowly smoking a cigar, and
feeling glad that this last case was now in complete obedience to him,
like a wild animal that he had subdued, when he heard the long
whistle, and chirped to his horse under the unlicensed but perfectly
distinct impression that a fire had broken out in Oakhurst, a new and
rather high-flying suburb of the town which was at least two miles
from his own home. But in the second blast and in the ensuing silence
he read the designation of his own district. He was then only a few
blocks from his house. He took out the whip and laid it lightly on the
mare. Surprised and frightened at this extraordinary action, she
leaped forward, and as the reins straightened like steel bands, the
doctor leaned backward a trifle. When the mare whirled him up to the
closed gate he was wondering whose house could be afire. The man who
had rung the signal-box yelled something at him, but he already knew.
He left the mare to her will.

In front of his door was a maniacal woman in a wrapper. "Ned!" she
screamed at sight of him. "Jimmie! Save Jimmie!"

Trescott had grown hard and chill. "Where?" he said. "Where?"

Mrs. Trescott's voice began to bubble. "Up--up--up--" She pointed at
the second-story windows.

Hannigan was already shouting: "Don't go in that way! You can't go in
that way!"

Trescott ran around the corner of the house and disappeared from them.
He knew from the view he had taken of the main hall that it would be
impossible to ascend from there. His