The Young Firemen of Lakeville; Or, Herbert Dare's Pluck

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE MYSTERY SOLVED--CONCLUSION

  "Get away from that door!" yelled the enraged man. "What right haveyou to be prying into my affairs? I hired you to do copying work forme, not to roam about this house."

  "Well, I'm done copying those illegal deeds for you!" retorted Mort."And, what's more, we're going to find out whom you have a prisoner inthere!"

  "A prisoner? You are joking. There is no one in there."

  "Yes, there is. He wrote an appeal for help on the typewriter andtossed the paper from the window. Hark, you can hear him calling forhelp!"

  There was a moment's silence, but no cry came from behind the door,one panel of which was shattered.

  "You see," sneered Muchmore. "I guess you'll wish you hadn't begunthis work, my friend, before I'm through with you. You'll be in jailere you are many hours older. As for you," went on the man, turning toBert, "I warned you, once before, not to trespass on my property. Ishall also make a complaint against you. Now, clear out, both of you!"

  "Suppose I refuse to go?" asked Mort coolly.

  "Then I'll throw you out. I paid you your wages to the end of theweek. You can consider yourself dismissed. If you don't go--"

  Muchmore paused, but there was such a fierce look on his face, as hestrode toward Bert and the stenographer, that, though neither of themwas a coward, they judged it best not to provoke the man too much.

  "Oh, we'll go," replied the stenographer. "But I warn you that youhaven't heard the last of this. This place will be searched, by theproper authorities, and that prisoner, whoever he is, will bereleased."

  "There is no prisoner there," retorted Muchmore. "And I'd like to seethe authorities here, or from anywhere else, search this house withoutmy permission. A man's house is his castle, here as much as inEngland. Now you have my answer, and you can do your worst!"

  "I'll inform Mr. Stockton," threatened Bert.

  "Do, you young rascal, when you can find him," and, with a laugh,Muchmore motioned his two unwelcome visitors to leave.

  "Well, we didn't find out much," remarked the stenographer, as he andBert were descending the hill toward the village. "I'm afraid I maderather a mess of it. He came back unexpectedly."

  "Maybe he never went away."

  "Mrs. Blarcum said he was going to be gone all night."

  "I believe she's in with him. But we certainly learned one thing. Someperson is a prisoner in the house, and it's a man who wants to getout."

  "And we'll help him," added Mort. "I'll inform the authorities in themorning."

  "Where will you stay to-night?" asked Bert.

  "I don't know. I guess I'll go to the hotel."

  "It isn't a very good place. Better come to my house. There are onlymother and I, and we have a spare room for you."

  "You are very kind. I'll come."

  Mrs. Dare welcomed the stenographer, and, after he and Bert had talkedover the queer events of the evening, they went to bed, intending tostart an official inquiry the first thing in the morning.

  But fate took a hand in the matter, and the mystery was solved soonerthan Bert or Mort expected it would be.

  In the middle of the night there was an alarm of fire. It came fromthe box on the hill, near the Stockton mansion, and Bert, hearing theclanging of the bell on the tower, awoke with a start and began todress.

  "Where is the blaze?" asked Mort.

  "Somewhere up near the house of mystery. I hope it isn't another falsealarm."

  "May I go with you?" asked the stenographer.

  "Of course. Hurry."

  Mort quickly dressed, and he and Bert, the latter making his usualpromise to his mother that he would be careful, were soon hasteningfrom the house, and toward the location of the box, where they wouldmeet the engine.

  "It's no false alarm!" exclaimed Mort, as they began to climb the hillleading to the big house.

  "You're right. It's a fire, but it doesn't seem to be very big. Theengine is there; I can hear the bell."

  Bert and the stenographer had taken a short cut to the Stocktonmansion, and, as they emerged from the woods, on that side of thehouse where Bert had picked up the mysterious message, they saw flamesshooting from one of the windows.

  "The fire is on the side of the house where the prisoner is!" criedBert "It's in that secret corridor!"

  "Maybe you'll have a chance to rescue him!" exclaimed thestenographer.

  The fire had not gained much headway, and, under Bert's direction, along ladder was procured, raised against the side of the house, andthen, carrying the hose himself, the young chief ascended toward theblaze.

  "Give me the stream!" called Bert to Cole, who was in charge of theengine.

  From the nozzle came the white, frothy mixture. Bert directed it atthe window through which the flames were coming.

  "Don't you dare go in that hall!" shouted Muchmore, running from theside door of the house to the foot of the ladder. "The fire doesn'tamount to much. You can put it out from where you are, young man. Inever called your department out. The old woman got scared and sent inthe alarm. It's only some rubbish burning."

  "I'll do as I think best about putting the fire out," replied Bert.

  "Don't you go in that corridor!" yelled Muchmore, who seemed franticover something.

  The chemical stream was already smothering the blaze, and Bert couldgo a little farther up the ladder. He continued on, coming rightopposite the window. Then he knew it was the same casement from whichthe mysterious message had been thrown. He could look in now, and hesaw that the fire came from a pile of rags and paper on the floor. Hedirected the chemical stream directly on them, and in a few secondsthe last vestige of the blaze was out. But Bert did not descend.

  He was peering into the dark corridor. Would he get a sight of theprisoner held there? He tried to pierce the darkness. Surely that wasa movement, surely that was someone hurrying to the window.

  Bert looked down. He caught one glimpse of Muchmore, in the light froma lantern Tom Donnell was carrying, rushing at the ladder, as if toupset it, and precipitate the boy on it to the ground, thirty feetbelow.

  But in the same glance Bert saw his chums holding back the enragedman. There was another movement in the corridor. Then a gleam of lightshowed, and, to his surprise, Bert saw an old man, carrying a lamp,coming toward him. The man's hands were bleeding, his clothes weredisheveled, and his hair and beard were matted, as if they had knownneither comb nor brush for a long time.

  "Save me! Save me!" cried the man. "Is the fire out? I started it tocall help! I thought the firemen would come. Oh, save me!"

  "You're all right," replied Bert. "There is no danger. The fire is allout."

  "Yes, the fire is out. There is no danger from that. It is my rascallynephew whom I fear. Save me from him!"

  "Your nephew? Who is he?" asked Bert, wondering what was about tohappen.

  "Alfred Muchmore. Have you seen him? Where is he? If he finds metalking to you, he'll lock me up again. He shoved me back in the roomafter I started the fire, but I broke through the door. See my hands!They are cut and bleeding!"

  "Who are you?"

  "Harris Stockton."

  "What? The owner of this place?"

  "Yes, my lad. The owner of the Stockton mansion, which my rascallynephew is trying to force me to convey to him, together with all myother property. He has compelled me to sign some deeds, but to-night Irefused to give him any more of my property. He has kept me a prisonerhere many months, for I am weak and sickly, and he is strong. That oldwoman helped him. Once before, there was a fire here, and I thought Imight escape, but I could not. Then, last night, some people tried tobreak down the door, but he drove them away. To-night, when he left mefor a while, I started this fire. I knew it could not do much damage,and I hoped it would bring me help. Thank God, it has! You will notlet him shut me up again, will you?"

  "Well, I guess not!" exclaimed Bert, as he climbed over the windowsill, and entered the long hall that was part of the unfortunate man's
prison. "He'll have to tackle the whole Lakeville fire department ifhe does. You're safe now, Mr. Stockton."

  "Oh! I'm so glad! It seemed as if I never would be free again!"

  "We'll soon have you in better quarters than this," went on Bert. Heleaned out of the window and shouted:

  "Hey, Mort! 'I've got him! I've got the mysterious prisoner. It's Mr.Stockton! Come on up, and bring some of the boys! Grab Muchmore, andhold him!"

  The rascally nephew heard the words which meant that his career was atan end. He had been struggling to break away from Tom Donnell and thestenographer, who were holding him, to prevent him from upsetting theladder.

  At Bert's words the enraged man, with a violent effort, managed towrench himself loose. He fled, for he knew the game was up. But it maybe added here that he was subsequently captured, and sent to prisonfor a long term.

  Into the mysterious house rushed the young fire-fighters, with Mort attheir head to show them the way. The partly shattered door leadinginto the corridor was quickly broken open, in spite of the protests ofMrs. Blarcum, who did not seem to understand that Muchmore had fled,and that the real owner of the mansion was again in possession. Alittle later the old woman disappeared and all trace of her was lost.

  As for Mr. Stockton, he soon was in his own apartments, where hequickly removed the signs of his imprisonment. Then he told his story,briefly, to Bert and his chums.

  Muchmore, it appeared, had always been a bad character, but he hadtold his uncle that he had reformed, and had begged his relative togive him a home. No sooner was he installed in the mansion than hebegan to scheme to get possession of it, and also what other propertyMr. Stockton had. To this end he secretly administered to his agedrelative a medicine which greatly weakened him. Then, when the old manwas not capable of defending himself, Muchmore had shut him up in anunused part of the house. From then on the nephew's course becamebolder.

  He began his wild, gambling life, introducing some of his cronies intothe mansion. He compelled Mrs. Blarcum to do as he wished by tellingher Mr. Stockton was crazy, and had to be kept a prisoner. Muchmore'sstrange actions, when the young firemen were first at the house, wasdue to his fear lest they discover that Mr. Stockton was a prisoner inhis own mansion.

  Then Muchmore began to make out deeds and other papers, compelling hisuncle, by threats of violence, to sign such as were necessary for hispurpose. Mr. Stockton tried several times to escape, but the rascallynephew and housekeeper were too much for him. Once Mr. Stocktonmanaged to get as far as the office where Mort Decker, under thedirection of Muchmore, was in the habit of copying deeds. Thestenographer was out at the time, and the office was deserted, and, ashe could not find a pen, the old man used the typewriter to preparethe mysterious note Herbert found. He was disturbed before he couldfinish it, but he carried it away with him, and, at the firstopportunity, threw it from the window.

  But now he had no more to fear, thanks to the rescue by Herbert.

  "I can't thank you enough," he said to the young chief. "But for you Imight still be a prisoner."

  "You helped yourself as much as we helped you," said Bert "It was agood idea, to think of starting that fire."

  "Yes, it was the only thing I could think of. This place is solonesome that persons seldom pass by, or I might have called to someof them, when I was well enough. Often I had to stay in bed for daysat a time. I made the fire of some old papers and rags, and I had apail of water ready to throw on it in case it got going too fiercely.Then Muchmore came and caught me, and locked me up. Oh, how I prayedthat they might send in an alarm, and that the fire department wouldcome, for I heard from the old housekeeper that a company had beenstarted in addition to the old hand-engine corps."

  "Yes, we think we have quite a fine department," said Herbert proudly.

  "Well, you'll soon have a better one," said Mr. Stockton. "I want toshow my appreciation in some way, and I'm going to buy a regularsteam-engine for the town."

  "But we'll need a water system for that," objected Bert.

  "That will come. I am going to sell a lot of property I have, and puta water system in Lakeville. I've held on to my land too long. We'lldevelop this village, until the old inhabitants, like myself, won'tknow the place. And, when we have the new department, I want you boysto have a hand in running it."

  Mr. Stockton was as good as his word. It took some time to make theimprovements he suggested, but finally a fine water system wasinstalled in the town, and the best steam fire-engine money could buywas presented to Lakeville, with the compliments of the agedmillionaire. In this work he was aided by Mort Decker, whom Mr.Stockton appointed his secretary.

  It needed horses to draw the steamer, and of course required men tooperate it. But the boys were not forgotten. They still kept thechemical engines--and the smaller lads the hand-engines--and they wereoften called on to put out trifling blazes, and help at the largerones.

  Mr. Stockton did not forget what Bert had done for him. He owned acomfortable house with two acres of ground and a barn, on one of theside streets of the town, and one day he surprised the young firemanby handing him a legal-looking document.

  "What is this?" asked the youth in surprise.

  "A deed to a house on Cherry Street," answered the rich man. "Theplace is now yours, free and clear. You and your mother can move intoit at any time."

  "Why, I didn't expect this," stammered Bert.

  "I know you didn't, my lad, but it is yours, nevertheless. I want todo something for you--and for that good mother of yours."

  Of course, Bert and Mrs. Dare were very grateful. They moved into thehouse a month later, and found it a far more comfortable home thanthey had ever before enjoyed.

  Lakeville is now quite a city. It has two steam fire-engines, insteadof one, the taxpayers purchasing the second. And if you were to gothere tomorrow, or any other day, for that matter, and ask for thechief of one of the finest small departments in the United States, youwould be introduced to Herbert Dare. For, after he finished hisschooling, he was unanimously selected to act in his former capacity.And here, wishing him all success in the field which he has chosen forhimself, and hoping that he may help save many lives and muchproperty, we will say good-bye to our young fireman and his loyalcomrades.

  THE END