"Walk!" jeered Tim. "Gee, I've walked enough. And there's nothing the matter with my appetite right now. Tell you what----" Tim paused. An automobile was stopping in front of the Inn. The headlights suddenly dimmed and the single occupant, a tall man in a light overcoat, got out, walked up the path, ascended the steps and passed into the house. "Now, who's he?" asked Tim. "Say, I wish he'd loan us his car for awhile." "Run in and ask him," suggested Tom. "He looked kind." "Maybe he'd give us a ride if we asked him," pursued Tim. "It's a peach of a car; foreign, I guess." "It's a Mercy Dear," said Tom. "Or a Fierce Sorrow," hazarded Clint. "Bet you it's a Cheerless," said Don, "or a Backhard." "Don't care what it is," persisted Tim. "I want a ride in it." "Let's go down and stand around it with our fingers in our mouths," said Tom, with a chuckle. "Perhaps he will take pity on us and ask us in." "Or we might open the door for him," offered Don. At that moment Clint, who had left his chair to lean across the railing and gaze past the end of the porch, interrupted with an exclamation. "Say, fellows, what's that light over there?" he asked eagerly. "Fire, by jingo!" cried Tim. "That's what!" agreed Tom. "Say, you don't suppose it's the school, do you?" "Of course not! The school's over that way. Besides, that fire's away off; maybe two miles. Come on!" And Clint started for the steps. "Wait!" called Tim. "I want to see the engine come out. Bet you it's a fine sight! Anyway, we can't foot it two miles." "Maybe it isn't that far," said Don. "Fires look further than they are sometimes." "Yes, and nearer, too," replied Tim. "Think we ought to run over and tell them about it?" But that question was speedily answered by the sudden clanging of a gong inside the fire house, followed by the sound of running footsteps and, an instant later, the wild alarm of the shrill-tongued bell in the little belfry. "My word!" exclaimed Tom. "I didn't know there were so many folks in the town!" Already a small-sized crowd had gathered in front of the fire house, some fifty yards up the street. The doors rolled open and a figure pushed through the throng and loped across the street and disappeared. The bell clanged on and on. Don and Clint and Tom made a dash for the steps. Tim slid over the railing. But before any of them had more than reached the sidewalk the tall owner of the automobile catapulted himself down the steps, hailing them as he came. "Where is it, boys?" he shouted. "Over there," answered Clint, pointing. But the glow in the sky was scarcely visible from the sidewalk and they all swarmed back to the porch again. "I see," said the man. "Some farm house, I guess. They'll know at the fire house." He sprang down the steps again, the boys streaming after him. He was already in the car when Tim asked breathlessly: "You going, sir?" "Sure! Want to come? Pile in, then. There are some packages in there. Look out for them."