One afternoon Mr. Peter Dewsnap was seated in the great library in which he passed most of his leisure time, busily engaged on a work in which he had taken a great deal of interest. A tap on the door interrupted his labor, and in response to his invitation Bruce Decker entered the room, cap in hand, and saluted him. “Ah, it’s you, young Decker, is it?” said the old gentleman, as he rose to greet his visitor. “Well, how is the chief to-day?” “He’s very well,” answered the boy, in hesitating tones, “and the fact is it was at his advice that I accepted your invitation to come up and see your library.” “Very glad to see you, indeed, my young friend,” responded the old gentleman, cordially. “As you said yourself the other day I’m an old fire crank, and I like nothing better than talking to young men of your age about what I think is the most important branch of public service in the country. Sit down here, Decker, and if you’ve an hour to spare it won’t do you any harm to hear an old man talk about a subject that’s nearest to his heart.” [Illustration: Bruce in Mr. Dewsnap’s ‘fire library.’—_Page 79._] Bruce seated himself in one of the big leather arm-chairs and glanced about the room. He had never seen as many books in handsome bindings in all his life, and he was particularly struck with the fact that one side of the room was completely filled with oaken shelves containing only books bound in red morocco. About the room were also scattered a number of old colored prints representing, for the most part, pictures of fires and of engines. “Those books in red constitute my fire library,” said Mr. Dewsnap, “and I am proud to say that it is one of the best, if not the very best, in this country. I have books in French, German and English, for you know that the service has a much greater literature than most people have any idea of.” Then Mr. Dewsnap lit a cigar, puffed thoughtfully at it for a moment or two, and went on: “The trouble with most of the boys who want to become firemen is that they are so carried away with the idea of jumping out of bed at a moment’s notice and tearing away through the streets at full gallop, and then turning streams on the flames and climbing up ladders and all the rest of it, that they entirely forget the fact that there is a serious side to it all, and that being a good fireman involves more in the way of training, both physical and mental, than almost any other public career that is open to them.