Mr. Minford stood motionless for five minutes in the presence of his creation.  He was ghostlike and frightful in that fixed attitude, and Bog wished that he would move.  He did so, nodding his head, and smiling, as he bent down and detached some part of the machine.  All but his head and his right shoulder then disappeared from view; but Bog knew, by the vibrating motion of his shoulder blade, that he was filing upon something.  Mr. Minford then stooped again, as if to put the part of the machine back into its proper place.  Having done this, he stood erect once more, folded his arms, and looked intently at the Mystery for the second time.

CHAPTER V.

TONGUES OF FIRE.

But now Bog’s attention was diverted from Mr. Minford, and his heart was made to beat more rapidly by a new sight.  While he had kept both eyes closely fixed upon the inventor, he had looked with an oblique, or reflected vision, into the other window of the room.  This window was uncurtained, and Bog could distinctly see the chairs, bureau, and other articles of furniture.  A new light (so Bog oddly thought) was suddenly irradiated through the darker portion of the apartment by the entrance of Pet from the hall.  She had no bonnet on; and Bog reasoned (if he could be said to reason in his excited state) that she had been spending a part of the evening, as was often her wont, with a poor family, rich in children, who lived on the floor below.  Her father smiled upon the problem before him, as a new difficulty melted away under his burning gaze.  Then he turned, and smiled at Pet.  She ran toward him, and he kissed her tenderly.  Bog was devouring this little episode with open mouth and eyes, when the hoarse voice of Uncle Ith broke in upon the enchantment: 

“Hallo! there’s a fire.”

“What!  Where?” shouted Bog, forgetting where he was.

“Why, you blind man!” said Uncle Ith; “straight afore ye.  Don’t ye see it breaking out?”

Bog cast his eyes about him wildly; and, sure enough, directly in the range of Mr. Minford’s house, but four or five blocks beyond, there was an illuminated streak of smoke curling up from a roof.

“It’s in my district!” cried Uncle Ith.  “So here goes.”  He seized the long iron lever near him, by which the enormous clapper of the bell was swung, and moved it like the handle of a pump.  The second motion was followed by a hoarse sound, which shook the tower to its foundations, and started into listening attitudes a thousand firemen in their engine or hose houses, in the streets, at the theatres, or at their own homes.

“Sha’n’t I help you?” asked Bog, who always proffered his services on these occasions.