“I hear they are going away to school this fall,” declared Mr. Flint, a retired merchant. “Well, they can’t go any too soon to suit me,” went on Mr. Wright. “They’re always doing something—those Smith boys are!” “But you must admit that they helped get the railroad to come here,” suggested Mr. Blanchard, the grocer. “Yes, but they’re like a cow that gives a good pail of milk and then kicks it over,” asserted Mr. Flint. “But I ain’t going to stay here any more. The fire’s most out, and I guess it’s a good thing the old barn went. It was only good for tramps.” In spite of the usual feeling against the Smith boys this was the general sentiment, and when Chief Humpville wanted to make a charge of arson against the lads, he was persuaded not to. “And so you fellows really did it; eh Bateye?” asked the chief, when the lad who could see in the dark had admitted his part in the affair, together with the Smith boys. They did it to clear Beantoe and Spider, who were deemed guilty by some. “Sure I did it,” admitted Bateye shamelessly. “Aren’t you glad you had the run?” The chief and his men were, but did not want to say so, for their new helmets and red shirts had been audibly admired, and the new apparatus, though its chemical streams were not effective against the fire, because of the start the blaze had acquired, were a source of pride to the townspeople. “Ain’t it against the law to set a fire?” demanded the chief, bound to maintain his dignity. “Not when you have permission,” asserted Bateye, “and my dad said I could get rid of the barn any way I liked.” “Did he say you could burn it?” asked the chief. “Well, not exactly, but I liked that way better than any other, and so we did it. I knew nothing could happen, as there wasn’t any wind.” The chief felt the uselessness of making any comments, especially as Mr. Jones was in the crowd, and confirmed what his son said. “But I certainly didn’t know he intended to burn it at night,” said Bateye’s father, “or I would have prevented him. However it’s done, and I’m glad the barn is gone. And if the firemen think—” “Oh, that’s all right, Mr. Jones,” said one of the red-shirts with a laugh. “We were getting too fat lying around. The run did us good.” It was not long ere the barn was but a heap of glowing embers and then the chief, calling hoarsely through his new trumpet, ordered the apparatus to “take up” though there was little to take up, and the department slowly went back to headquarters. The crowd followed, talking excitedly of what had happened. “I guess you fellows won’t take after us next time; will you?” asked Cap of Beantoe and Spider, as the two lads passed by. “Humph! You just wait; that’s all!” threatened Beantoe, vaguely. “We’ll get square with you yet!” “That’s what,” added Spider, striding along on his thin legs.