"Guess that's the Fire Department," grunted Fay. "About time they turned up!"
"There's oil in that fire!" snapped the tanner, gazing at the black smoke. "Where'd it come from?"
"Two five-gallon tins of it, brought from D building, spilled on the floor and a match chucked into it. I seen them lying on their side in there at the start of it."
"Humph. Brought from D building, eh? Then there's no doubt of _this_ being the work of an incendiary!"
"Doubt? Huh! I'll tell the world there ain't no doubt! I seen the feller that did it!"
"Ah! Could you recognize him? Who was it? Why in thunder didn't you grab him? Where'd he get to?"
Before Fay could even begin to sort out these questions and try to answer the easier ones, their quick conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a resplendent figure at their elbows. A short, stout man was Gus Wimpelheimer, grocer and butcher by profession and in his lighter moments Chief of the Hambleton Fire Department. His round little body was now quivering with pleased excitement.
"Evening, gentlemen!" he greeted them politely. He glanced at the fire and wrinkled an expert nose. "Kerosene!" he pronounced.
"The thought had occurred to us," retorted Simon. Marshal Wimpelheimer trotted briskly toward the fire for a better view, and trotted briskly back again as another carboy let go.
"Bad business," he reported cheerfully. "Nasty wind springing up," he added happily. "Blowing straight for the other buildings, too!" He put a little whistle to his lips and its squeaky notes brought two satellites of the main luminary. "Hustle out those chemicals and get 'em to work on the blaze. Rout out all the buckets you can find, and send for more. Call on that crowd out there for volunteers and get a chain started from the stream to these other buildings. Douse 'em--douse 'em _good_! Don't stop till I tell you to. Fay! You'll know where there are any ladders; fetch them out!"
"Yes, Chief!" came the admiring chorus, and the men sprang off to execute his orders. He rubbed his hands together with satisfaction and turned brightly to the tanner.
"Don't you worry, Mr. Varr," he said indulgently. "We'll handle this little affair for you!"
Worry was not exactly Varr's predominant emotion. There was small reason to fear that the remainder of the buildings would not be kept intact, and there was ample insurance on the property, including contents. The blaze could cause him inconvenience when business was resumed, that was all.