By this time they had turned down the side street to where the burning hay was. The flames had mostly enveloped it, and Mr. Kimball and his two sons were vainly dashing pails of water at the base of the ignited pile. "Run the engine right down to the brook," said Bert. "We won't have to pass the water so far then. As soon as it stops I'll unreel the hose and Cole will call for some fellows to jump up and work the handles. Don't have any disputes. The rest will pass buckets, and John Boll and Tom Donnell can handle the nozzles. I'll pass water, this time." The post of honor, of course, was at the nozzles, of which there were two. Next to that came being at the handles, or brakes, while the hardest work and probably the least spectacular was passing the water. Bert deliberately selected this, as he knew putting out the fire depended entirely on the water, and he did not want it said that he chose the best position, as he wanted plenty of lads to assist him with the buckets. "This way, bucket brigade!" called Mr. Sagger, who acted as a sort of chief at times. "Here you are with the engine," cried Bert, in opposition. "Right down to the brook, boys!" "Form lines!" directed Mr. Sagger. "Pass buckets." Bert and his chums ran the engine close to the stream of water. Then Burt unreeled the two lines of hose, and gave them in charge of Tom and John. Cole was busy oiling the brake bearings and calling for ten boys to assist him. The others, with Bert, grabbed the buckets from where they hung underneath the tank, and ran toward the brook. In less than three minutes from the time they had the engine in place, the boys at the handles could pump water, so quickly was the tank partly filled. "Now, boys, keep her as near full as you can," advised Bert. There were many willing hands. Into the tank splashed pail after pail of water. Up and down went the long handles, with a "clank-clank." The flattened lines of hose filled out as the water squirted through them, and an instant later, out from the nozzles spurted vigorous streams, which Tom and John aimed at the blazing stack. There was a loud hissing, as the water struck the hot embers, and a great cloud of steam arose. "That's the stuff!" cried Bert, from his position near the brook. "We'll have it out in a few minutes." "Pass the buckets faster!" cried Mr. Sagger. "Douse out the fire!" The members of the brigade had not been idle. They had formed two lines, one for the empty and one for the filled pails, and the end man at the latter line was kept busy tossing gallon after gallon of water on the fire. But his was slow work compared with that of even the primitive hand engine. He had to stop, momentarily, after each bucketful, to reach for another and to toss aside the empty one.