CHAPTER III
TO THE RESCUE
For a few moments after the excitement caused by the explosion and fire, the five boys rushed on together, saying nothing. Their eyes were fixed on the distant group of burning buildings, which, being of light and flimsy construction (as is always the case with fireworks factories and powder mills), were burning rapidly. They occupied quite an extent of territory, being well separated so that if one blew up or caught fire there would be less likelihood of all being consumed.
“She sure is a hummer!” cried Harry, as he raced along beside Charlie Ford.
“That’s right!” joined in the red-haired lad.
“The whole thing’s likely to go up if the wind doesn’t shift,” commented Henry Blake. “It’s blowing the flames right toward the main building now.”
“Yes, and they’re all pretty well filled,” said Joe Strong. “This is their busy season, getting ready for the Fourth, you know. There’ll likely be a lot more explosions, and a final big one.”
“There goes one now!” cried Tom Simpson.
As he spoke there was a burst of flame and smoke from one of the buildings that had not before caught fire, and then followed an explosion louder than any of the previous ones.
“There she goes!” shouted Harry.
“And look at the rockets!” added Joe.
A sheaf of sky rockets, part of a shipment just finished, had become ignited and now were whizzing up in the air, bursting with loud reports far above the earth, for they were large-sized pyrotechnics.
“If this were only night it would be a grand sight!” murmured Charlie, narrowly missing a fall as he stumbled over a stone.
“Too bad they couldn’t wait,” commented Joe, grimly. “Say! I wonder if any one’s hurt. It came so suddenly that a lot of the workers may be trapped in there.”
“That’s so,” agreed his chums. They increased their pace. They could now see others running to the fire—men, boys, and some women and children, coming from the direction of the town. Others were leaving their work in fields, gardens, or in houses to view the unusual sight.
There was not a little alarm, too, for many of the men and some girls and boys of the town worked in the Universal Fireworks Factory, particularly at this season of the year.
The factory was located close to the freight station of the Bedford and Point Barrow Railroad, a spur, or short track, running in among the factory buildings. On the sidings were a number of freight cars, which carried big red signs, marked: “Dangerous! Explosive! Keep all lights away!”
But there was plenty of light now, even though the glaring sun took away the effect that would have prevailed had there been darkness—plenty of light and fire.
“She sure is a hummer!” cried Tom.
“A hum-dinger,” added Harry. “Listen to that!”
Another explosion occurred, lifting a roof off one of the frail buildings, and depositing the blazing mass over on the railroad tracks, and rather dangerously near the passenger depot, which was not far from the freight station.
“There goes the fire alarm!” cried Harry.
“They’ll be here in no time. It’s a general alarm when anything like a fireworks factory goes up,” said Joe. “There they come,” he added, as he looked back toward the town, and pointed to an automobile fire-fighting apparatus coming along the road. The auto-engine was a new purchase for Bedford. Besides that, there was an old steamer, drawn by hand whenever horses could not be requisitioned in a hurry.
The five boys had to cross the small stream, known locally as Bedford Creek, in order to reach the scene of the fire. As they rushed along across the fields toward the water, all but Joe bore off to the left. He kept straight on.
“Where you going?” asked Harry.
“To the fire, of course,” was the answer.
“The bridge is over this way,” stated Tom, indicating a white structure that crossed the stream some distance to the left of where the boys then were.
“Bridge!” cried Joe. “Do you think I’d waste time crossing a bridge when there’s a fire like this straight ahead of me?”
“How are you going to get across the creek?” Harry queried.
“Wade or swim, of course. It’s a hot day!”
And while Tom, Harry and the others ran on toward the bridge, Joe Strong, coming to the edge of the creek, which at this point was deeper and wider than at any other, waded out without a moment’s hesitation.
For a moment his chums watched him, fascinated. Then they shook their heads, and kept on toward the bridge.
“He sure has got nerve!” asserted Henry.
“Yes, Joe’s there with it every time,” added Tom. “I wish I dared do that. But if I got wet with all my clothes on, I’d be in for a good scolding when I got home.”
“Joe may be, too—or worse,” said Charlie. “I hear that he and Deacon Blackford don’t get along any too well of late. He’s given Joe several touches of the whip and strap, and Joe’s not a fellow to stand much of that sort of treatment.”
“I wouldn’t blame him for not standing it,” commented Henry. “Deacon Blackford may mean all right, but we all know he’s totally ashamed to have it known what Joe’s father and mother were. As if it could be a disgrace to have had a mother who was a dandy circus rider, and a father who was a top-notcher when it came to magic. I’d be proud of it if my folks were that sort.”
“So would I,” added Harry.
“That’s where Joe gets his nerve,” remarked Tom. “Nerve to do just what he did now—swim the creek.”
“Yes, and that’s where he gets his liking for magic tricks and for his circus stunts,” added Charlie. “He sure is a great boy, and strong. Why, say! you ought to have seen him on the trapeze I put up in our barn the other day. He did one giant swing and then he slid down a rope in a way that——”
“Look, there goes another building!” interrupted Henry, and the boys, racing for the bridge, forgot, for the time, to discuss Joe and his doings, in watching the progress of the fire, to which they were much nearer now. They could hear the crackle of the flames and the popping of small pieces of fireworks.
Charlie turned back to look at Joe. The young wizard, for such he later became, had waded out until he found himself getting beyond his depth, then he plunged into the water, fully clothed as he was, and began to swim.
Joe was a good swimmer, and he had on a light summer suit and tennis shoes, so he was not as hampered as otherwise he might have been. But swimming in a full suit was nothing for Joe. He had done it before in a camping contest, and he had plunged in once, in midwinter, in a heavy suit, to rescue a little girl from the icy stream.
Joe was a wonderful swimmer, though he could not yet do any fancy tricks. He was just doing the plain Australian crawl stroke, which puts one through the water in wonderfully good time. On and on he swam, gaining the other side, and was very close to the fire before his companions had reached the bridge. That was where Joe’s nerve and daring stood him in good stead.
In the beginning he had no particular object in getting to the fireworks fire in such a hurry. It was just curiosity on his part, as it was on the part of his companions. Then another thought came to Joe.
As he climbed up the bank on the other side, water dripping from every part of him, the youth thought:
“I wouldn’t be surprised but what somebody got hurt in this fire. It came so suddenly they can’t all have escaped. It isn’t going to be any easy job to put it out, either. They’ll need all the help they can get together. There go some of the railroad men to give a hand.”
Joe was out on level ground now, near the railroad tracks, and he utilized them as the shortest way to the fire. He looked back to see his chums who had crossed the bridge and were now laboriously racing onward. Their long run had tired them, whereas the swim Joe had taken had refreshed him, as the day was warm.
The shrill sound of the fire apparatus siren could now be heard, mingling with the whistle of the steamer, for the engineer, seeing the smoke and blaze from afar, and knowing the need, had started a fire under the boiler, ready for quick work when he should have reached the scene of the conflagration.
Joe joined the running, panting throng of men and boys that now came swarming from all directions to the fire. The crew of a freight train, drawn up at the Bedford station, had come over to do what they could, and the fire-fighting force of the factory itself was busy. They had a small steamer on the premises, and lines of hose were connected to the steam pump in the boiler room. Water was soon being poured on the blaze, and when the auto-apparatus and the old-fashioned steamer arrived, they, too, were put into service.
By this time Joe’s chums had joined him.
“You beat us to it,” panted Charlie.
“Sure I did!” exclaimed Joe. “Why didn’t you fellows take a chance in the creek?”
“We didn’t want to spoil our clothes,” said Charlie.
“That’s right. It didn’t improve mine any,” admitted the young wizard, as he looked down at his sodden garments. “I expect dad will ask me to step out to the woodhouse when I get home,” Joe said grimly. He called Mr. Blackford “dad,” and, as a matter of fact, up to the time he was eight years old Joe had not appreciated the fact that “the deacon,” as he was often called, was only his foster-parent. Joe had but a hazy idea of his real father and mother, and the change at his early age failed to impress him. Later he heard the real story, however.
“Yes, I guess I’ll get a talking to, anyhow,” he went on. “But I couldn’t wait to come over the bridge. Say, she’s going some! isn’t she?”
“That’s what!” commented Tom. “Look, there goes the big building!”
The main structure, which up to now had suffered neither from explosion nor from fire, was seen to be smoking on one side. Hoarse orders came from the fire chief to play streams on that in an effort to save it, and the fire-fighters drew closer.
“Anybody hurt, did you hear?” asked Charlie of Joe.
“No, but some had narrow escapes. A few of the girls had to jump, but it wasn’t far, for most of the buildings are only two stories high.”
This was true of all, in fact, save the main structure, where most of the fireworks were stored. That was four stories high, and constructed partly of brick. It was an old mill turned into a fireworks factory, the other structures being built around it.
“If that main building catches—good-night! I’m going to leave this spot!” said Henry.
“Yes, it will be healthier a bit farther on,” agreed Tom.
“Oh, look!” suddenly cried Harry. “There’s a man on the top floor of the store-house! Look!”
He pointed. The others followed the direction of his outstretched finger. They saw a small door open near the roof of the main building. It was a door with a projecting beam above it—a beam such as in barns and mills is used for hoisting bags of grain or bales of hay. And, for the moment, a man stood outlined in this small, open door.
Then, suddenly, the man was seen to crumple up and fall in a heap on the very edge of the opening. So close to the edge did he fall that there came a gasp of horror from the throng, for it looked for an instant as if he would topple out and fall to the ground below.
“Why—why, that’s the professor—Professor Rosello, who did the magic tricks last night!” cried Harry.
“So it is!” agreed Tom. They had recognized him in that brief instant. What he was doing on the top floor of the main building of the fireworks factory could only be guessed then.
“If he hadn’t fainted, or been overcome by smoke or flames, or whatever happened to him,” said Henry, “he might have slid down the rope and been saved. As it is now, he’s in danger.”
A rope dangled from the beam above the door to the ground below. It ran through a pulley, and was evidently used to hoist and lower materials into and out of the factory.
Joe Strong, with an exclamation, suddenly darted forward toward the building, which, in spite of the streams of water poured against it, was now on fire.
“What are you going to do?” cried Harry, reaching out his hand to hold back his chum.
“Get that man—the professor!” answered Joe.
“But you—you can’t do it!” protested Henry.
“Can’t I? You just watch me!” cried Joe, as he broke into a run. He was headed straight for the dangling rope that hung from the beam. It was right in front of the open door, where the motionless form of the magician lay.
Joe Strong was going to the rescue.