Then, as he opened his eyes (for he had closed them when the strange thing began to happen) he saw that he was in the arms of the fireman with the white rubber coat, and the fireman was smiling down at him.

“Am I—­am I hurted?” Freddie asked.

“Bless your little heart!  Of course not!” was the answer.  “But you might have been if you had stayed where you were—­not so much hurt by the fire, for that’s almost out—­as by the crowd.  How did you get past the fire lines?”

“I—­I didn’t see ’em,” said Freddie.  “Back in Lakeport, where I live, we don’t have fire lines, though I’ve got a fish line.”

“Humph!  You’re from the country, all right.  Where do you live, and how comes it your father let you out in the streets during a fire?”

“I live in the Parkview Hotel and my father didn’t let me out.  He’s gone to see the airships with Nan and Bert, and Laddie and I came out to see the fire ourselves.  Flossie stayed with her doll.  Laddie went back to get his aunt, ’cause she likes fires—­I mean to see ’em—­and I waited for him, and—­and——­”

“Yes, I guess you don’t know what happened next,” laughed the fireman.  “But as I want to telephone to headquarters about one of the engines that is broken, I’ll use the hotel ’phone, and, at the same time, take you back where you belong.  You’re too little to get inside the ropes at a New York fire.”

“I’m going to be a fireman when I grow up,” said Freddie, as the assistant chief carried him into the corridor of the hotel.

“Well, that won’t be for some time yet, and while you’re waiting to grow up don’t go too near fires—­they’re dangerous.  There you are, and I think some one is looking for you,” the fireman went on, as he saw a lady rushing toward him when he set Freddie down.

“That’s my mother,” said Freddie.

“Oh, Freddie!  Where have you been?” cried Mrs. Bobbsey, for when she heard of a fire she went in search of the two small twins, and could not find them in Mrs. Whipple’s rooms.

“I’ve been to the fire, and I was rescued,” answered Freddie.  “He did it,” and he pointed to the white-coated fireman.

“Oh, he really wasn’t in any real danger,” the assistant chief said, taking off his heavy helmet and bowing to Mrs. Bobbsey.  “He was inside the fire lines and I carried him here.”

“Oh, I can’t thank you enough!” cried Freddie’s mother.  “I never knew him to do such a thing as that before.  But he is simply wild about fires!”

“Yes, most boys are.”

Then the fireman telephoned about the broken engine.  Freddie told his mother how he and Laddie came to go down to watch the “puffers” (part of which story Flossie had already told Mrs. Bobbsey), and then along came Laddie and his aunt.  Mrs. Whipple was almost as much worried as was Mrs. Bobbsey.

But everything came out all right; no one was hurt, and the fire, though it badly burned the store in which it started, did not get near the hotel or any other buildings.