“Here he is, and just comin’ to, after being knocked senseless.  Hank ain’t hurted, I reckon,” answered a citizen who had run with the machine.

“How about the engine—­is she much damaged?” asked the foreman, as men set about raising the heavy Rescue No. 1.

“Out of business for this trip, Elderkin.  She’ll never work again till she’s gone down to the city for repairs,” came the answer.

A groan of dismay went up.

“That settles the fate of the old Bradley house, then,” declared many, as they saw the flames and smoke apparently increasing.

Everybody was now anxious to get on the scene, and the engine was left in charge of a watcher, while the crowd rushed along, exchanging views of the accident, and the chances of saving the building by means of a bucket brigade.

The foreman proved himself to be the right man in the right place.  He instantly organized a double line of men and boys, leading from the creek near by, up to the house that was burning.

Every imaginable species of bucket and tin pail was pressed into use.  Men and boys invaded the kitchen and captured all sorts of utensils, from milkpans to butter firkins.

These were put into use, and passed along as rapidly as those at the creek end could plunge them in, and fill them with water.

At the other terminus the foreman and his assistants took the water pails, and dashed the contents here and there as opportunity arose.

The Boy Scouts were nearly all somewhere in the line, and working valorously.  For the time being they utterly forgot they were dressed in their new suits of khaki, and that the pails slopped over continuously, soon soaking them to the skin.

Cheered on by the appeals of their leader they never flinched.  It was the first chance Paul had of seeing how his enlisted followers could forget self, and rise grandly to an occasion.

When any one showed signs of tiring he was quickly crowded out of the line by another eager willing worker.  Indeed, there seemed to be three applicants for each job; and had there been more buckets several lines might have been formed to make use of that accommodating creek.

Jack, after a little, found himself pushed aside by another scout, who wanted to exercise his muscles, and could wait no longer.

Seeing a group around some children, and hearing sudden cries from a woman, Jack hurried across the lawn.  Somehow he seemed to fear that new trouble had broken out; and when he saw a half-clad figure wringing her hands, and shrieking, he realized that his suspicions were going to prove true.

“What is it?” he asked, of another scout, coming away from the group.

“Her baby.  She says it is in the house!” replied the boy, whose face was white with the horror of it all.

“What?” cried Jack; “did she forget her own baby, then?”

“She thought her husband had it.  He’s a sick man too.  See, that’s him they are holding back there.  He wants to go in for the baby, and they won’t let him.  Oh!  Jack, I’d like to do it, but I’m afraid of fire.  I just dassent!” sobbed the boy.