File:Phaeton Rogers; a novel of boy life (1881) (14566164847).jpg

Identifier: phaetonrogersnov00john (find matches)
Title: Phaeton Rogers; a novel of boy life
Year: 1881 (1880s)
Authors: Johnson, Rossiter, 1840-1931
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Publisher: New York, C. Scribner's Sons

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sbeing in the town, and I suppose that in my half-wakenedcondition that mingled itself vaguely in my thoughts withthe idea of fire. At any rate, I seized a pitcher of waterand threw its contents toward the light, and then, club-bing the pitcher, was about to make a desperate assaulton the supposed burglar, when he spoke again. What are you doing ? Dont you know me ? Oh, is that you, Fay? Yes, and you ve drenched me through and through,said he, as he climbed in. AN ALARM OF FIRE. 2O7 Thats too bad, said I. I did nt know what Iwas about. Its a tremendous fire, said he, and I hate to losethe time to goback home andchange myclothes. Besides,I dont knowthat I could, forwe made a ropeof the bedclothesand slid downfrom ourwindow,and I could ntclimb up again. Oh, nevermind, put on asuit of mine,said I, and gotout my Sundaysuit, the onlyclothes I hadthat seemed like-ly to be largeenough for Phae-ton. It was a tight squeeze, but he got into them. Why did you make your ladder so short ? said he.
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PHAETON IS TAKEN FOR A BURGLAR. 208 PHAETON ROGERS. It reaches to the ground, said I. No, it does nt said Phaeton ; I had hard work toget started on it. I expected to find Ned standing at thefoot of it, but he was so impatient to see the fire, I sup-pose he could nt wait for us. We dropped from the shortened ladder to the ground,passed out at the gate and shut it noiselessly behind us,and then broke into a run toward that quarter of thetown where both a pillar of flame and a pillar of cloudrose through the ni^ht and lured us on. o o At the same time our mouths opened themselves byinstinct, and that thrilling word Fire ! was paid outcontinuously, like a sparkling ribbon, as we ran. CHAPTER XV. RUNNING WITH THE MACHINE. PRESENTLY we heard a tremendous noise behind us,--acombination of rumble, rattle, and shout. It was RedRover Three going to the fire. She was for some reasona little belated, and was trying to make up lost time. Atleast forty men had their hands on the drag-rope, and wer

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