The Weathercock Part 30

"Dressed, uncle. Going down," cried Vane, as he walked into the pa.s.sage.

"Shan't be five minutes, my boy."

"Take care, Vane, dear," came in smothered and suggestive tones. "Don't go too near the fire."

"All right, aunt," shouted the boy, as he ran downstairs, and, catching up his cap, unfastened the front door, stepped out, ran down the path, darted out from the gate, and began to run toward where the alarm bell was being rung.

It was no great distance, but, in spite of his speed, it seemed to be long that night; and, as Vane ran, looking eagerly the while for the glow from the fire, he came to the conclusion that the brilliancy of the moon was sufficient to render it invisible, and that perhaps the blaze was yet only small.

"Hi! Who's that?" cried a voice, whose owner was invisible in the shadow cast by a clump of trees.

"I--Vane Lee. Is the rectory on fire, Distin?"

"I've just come out of it, and didn't see any flames," said the youth contemptuously.

"Here, hi! Distie!" came from the side-road leading to the rectory grounds. "Wait for us. Who's that? Oh, you, Vane. What's the matter?"

"I don't know," replied Vane. "I jumped out of bed when I heard the alarm bell."

"So did we, and here's Aleck got his trousers on wrong way first."

"I haven't," shouted Macey; "but that's my hat you've got."

As he spoke, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the hat Gilmore was wearing, and tossed the one he held toward his companion.

"Are you fellows coming?" said Distin, coldly.

"Of course we are," cried Macey. "Come on, lads; let's go and help them get out the town squirt."

They started for the main street at a trot, and Vane panted out:--

"I'll lay a wager that the engine's locked up, and that they can't find the keys."

"And when they do, the old pump won't move," cried Gilmore.

"And the hose will be all burst," cried Macey.

"I thought we were going to help," said Distin, coldly. "If you fellows chatter so, you'll have no breath left."

By this time they were among the houses, nearly everyone of which showed a light at the upper window.

"Here's Bruff," cried Vane, running up to a group of men, four of whom were carrying poles with iron hooks at the end--implements bearing a striking family resemblance to the pole drags said to be "kept in constant readiness," by wharves, bridges, and docks.

"What have you got there, gardener?" shouted Gilmore.

"Hooks, sir, to tear off the burning thack."

"But where is the burning thatch?" cried Vane.

"I dunno, sir," said the gardener. "I arn't even smelt fire yet."

"Have they got the engine out?"

"No, sir. They arn't got the keys yet. Well, did you make him hear?"

continued Bruff, as half-a-dozen men came trotting down the street.

"Nay, we can't wacken him nohow."

"What, Chakes?" cried Vane.

"Ay; we've been after the keys."

"But he must be up at the church," said Vane. "It's he who is ringing the bell."

"Nay, he arn't theer," chorused several. "We went theer first, and doors is locked."

By this time there was quite a little crowd in the street, whose components were, for the most part, asking each other where the fire was; and, to add to the confusion, several had brought their dogs, some of which barked at the incessant ringing of the big bell, while three took part in a quarrel, possibly induced by ill-temper consequent upon their having been roused from their beds.

"Then he must have locked himself in," cried Vane.

"Not he," said Distin. "Go and knock him up; he's asleep still."

"Well," said Bruff, with a chuckle, as he stood his hook pole on end, "owd Mike Chakes can sleep a bit, I know; but if he can do it through all this ting dang, he bets me."

"Come and see," cried Vane, making for the church-tower.

"No; come and rout him out of bed," cried Distin.

Just then a portly figure approached, and the rector's smooth, quick voice was heard asking:--

"Where is the fire, my men?"

"That's what we can't none on us mak' out, Parson," said a voice. "Hey!

Here's Mester Rounds; he's chutch-waarden; he'll know."

"Nay, I don't know," cried the owner of the name; "I've on'y just got out o' bed. Who's that pullin' the big bell at that rate?"

"We think it's saxton," cried a voice.

"Yes, of course. He has locked himself in."

"Silence!" cried the rector; and, as the buzz of voices ceased, he continued, "Has anyone noticed a fire?"

"Nay, nay, nay," came from all directions.

"But at a distance--at either of the farms?"

"Nay, they're all right, parson," said the churchwarden. "We could see if they was alight. Hi! theer! How'd hard!" he roared, with both hands to his mouth. "Don't pull the bell down."