"They might. Sagger will make a big fuss over his loss, and, as he hopes to be the next mayor, he may start a movement. But I'm just as well satisfied to have the department the way it is, for a while. Of course, if the town took hold we could get another engine, and maybe a better alarm system. Constable Stickler can't always be depended on." "Still, he's done pretty good." "That's right. Well, so long, Vincent. See you to-morrow," and Bert turned down his street. "So long," replied his chum. "Hope we don't get another alarm in to-night." "I wonder who in this place can want a stenographer and typewriter?" again thought Herbert, as he went into the house. "I wish that tramp had told me. I meant to ask him his name, but I forgot all about it. Never mind, I may see him again." There was considerable talk in Lakeville the day following the fire in the butcher shop. Most of it was done by Mr. Sagger himself, and the burden of his cry was that the town must have a regular department, with a big engine. It was pointed out to him that, without a water supply, a steam fire engine was out of the question, and then he said they ought to have another hand engine and some men to run both machines. He spoke of calling a meeting of the Selectmen to consider the matter, but nothing came of it. Probably Mr. Sagger figured up what it would cost, and feared his taxes would be too high. At any rate, nothing was done, though every time he mentioned the fire in his shop the butcher declared there ought to be a regular department. He never said anything about the hundred dollars he had offered for saving his shop. Considering that the boys had worked hard at the Sagger blaze, Bert had no drills for a week. Then they were resumed again, and furnished plenty of exercise for the young firemen. But, about two weeks after the butcher shop fire, there came another which gave them almost more practice than they wanted. It was shortly after midnight when the alarm came in, for Constable Stickler was an efficient guardian, in spite of his age, and on one of his trips to the church tower he had seen a flicker of flame off to the west. An instant later he was ringing the bell-four short, sharp, quick strokes. The boys sleeping in the barn heard them, and so did the boys in their beds at home. They jumped up and, in quick time, the engine had been run out. It was Bert's night on "barn-watch," as it was called, and he and his chums hurried to such good effect that before the alarm had been rung four times they were pulling the engine from the barn. "Whew! There's quite a wind!" exclaimed Bert as they got outside. "A fire to-night is liable to be a bad one." "Hark! What's that?" inquired Cole. The boys heard a distant shouting. "The bucket brigade is turning out," spoke Tom Donnell. "No. It's some one yelling about the fire!" There came a shift in the wind, and to the ears of the boys was borne this cry: "The lumber yard's on fire! Hurry!"