“We’re apt to get all the drenching we want when we get to the fire,” interjected Chief Trask, and the Baron continued without seeming to comprehend his remarks, “Well, suppose we say three minutes for dressing and another minute to get down stairs and hitch the horses—you don’t stop to call the roll of the men, do you?” “No,” rejoined the chief gravely “our only roll is the pay-roll and a man drops off that pretty quick if he’s not at his place when the truck goes out.” “Let me see,” continued the visitor, “that makes five minutes and a half so far. If you get out in six minutes, you ought to do well. But there’s one thing I don’t understand and that is how you can be sure of arriving at the fire with the full strength of your company if you don’t call the roll or have some other means of assuring yourself that they’re all there when you started. Now in my country the men all stand up in a row and are inspected by their commanding officer before they leave their quarters, and each one must have his boots blacked and his clothing all properly arranged before he gets up on the engine.” “If we were to stop here to inspect our men we’d never get to the fire at all,” replied the Chief. “If a man doesn’t take interest enough in his work to turn out the instant the alarm comes, why there’s no room for him in the department. Why, the rivalry between the different companies is so strong that every fireman feels that the reputation of his own machine rests on his shoulders, and, as I told you before, when that alarm comes in he gives a jump, no matter whether he is asleep or in the middle of a game of checkers——” “Would he jump if he were in the middle of a game of pinochle,” interrupted the Baron with a look of inquiring gravity that almost upset Mr. Dewsnap again. “He’d jump no matter what he was doing,” the chief went on “and as for six minutes—well come down stairs with me, and I’ll turn the men out for your especial benefit, then you can take your watch out and time them so as to see just how long it does take.”