aste and
vigorous action. Like a giant refreshed Joe leaped to his work. Every
fibre of his huge frame was replete with energy, and his heart beat
strong, but it beat steadily; not a vestige of a _flutter_ was there,
for his head was clear and cool. He knew exactly what to do. He knew
exactly what was being done. Surprise did, indeed, fill him when he
_reflected_ that it was his own house which had caught fire, but that
did not for a moment confuse him as to the certainty that the engine
must be already out, and his comrades rushing to his assistance.

He strode to the door and opened it. A volume of dense black smoke,
followed by sheets of flame drove him back. At the same moment loud
shouts were heard outside, and a shriek came from the inner room. Joe
dashed towards it. In passing, he pulled Fred off the baking-board, and
at the same moment seized the curious old helmet, and almost
instinctively clapped it on his own head. There was a back door to the
house. Joe grasped his wife, and the Rosebud, and the bedclothes in one
mighty embrace, and bore the whole bundle towards this back door.
Before he reached it it was dashed open by Bob Clazie, who sprang in
with the "branch." Bob, having been roused to a fire so near at hand,
had not taken time to go through the usual process of putting on his
uniform. He, like Joe, was in dishabille.

"Here, take care of 'em. Let go the branch; I'll look after it. Foul
play here. Let the police look out."

Joe said this sharply as he thrust the bundle containing his wife into
Bob's arms, and, picking up the Rosebud, who had slipped out, clapped
her on Bob's back. Bob made for the back staircase, while Joe picked up
the branch, and turning his head in the direction of the open door,
shouted in the voice of a stentor, "Down with 'er!" Meanwhile, Fred,
who had a vague impression that the fire in the cupboard had got to a
powerful head at last, picked up the hose and looked on with a sleepy
smile.

Obedient to the order, the water rushed on, filled and straightened the
hose, threw Fred on his back on the floor, and caused the nozzle to
quiver as Joe directed it to the fire.

Just then a man dashed into the room.

"Lend a hand here," cried Joe glancing round.

He saw in a moment by the man's look that he meant mischief. Instantly
he turned the nozzle full in his face. Jeff, for it was he, fell as if
he had been shot, and was partly washed, partly rolled down the