"
Jumbo isn't a member of the fire department, though he is wild to
join. He isn't old enough. He is six feet one inch, weighs 180,
and won't be sixteen till the 5th of next February. Nobody ever
saw him when he wasn't eating. They say he clips his words so
as to save time for eating. He takes a cracker out of his pocket,
shoves it in his mouth whole, jams his hat down till his ears stick
out, and, with his companions, tears down the road, seemingly
propelled as much by his elbows as by his legs. Why, under the
combined strain of growing and running, he doesn't part a seam
somewhere is a dark mystery.
Crash! The roof of the barn caves in and reveals what we had not
before suspected, that Platt's barn, on the other side of the alley,
is afire too. Say! This is getting interesting. The wind is
setting directly toward Swope's house. It has been so terribly dry
this last month or so that the house will go like powder if it ever
catches. Why, I think Swope has a well and cistern both. Used
to have, anyway, before they put the water-works in, and the board
of health condemned the wells. Say! There was a put-up job if
there ever was one. Why, sure! Sure he had stock in the water
works. Doc. Muzzey? I guess, yes . . . . Pity they ever
traded off the hand-engine. They got a light-running
hook-and-ladder truck.
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