CHAPTER XXXIV.
A FIRE IN FAIRPORT.
HAD several times run to a fire with the boys and knew that there was always a great noise and excitement. There was a light in the house, so I knew that somebody was getting up. I don't think—indeed I know, for they were good boys—that they ever wanted anybody to lose property, but they did enjoy seeing a blaze, and one of their greatest delights, when there hadn't been a fire for some time, was to build a bonfire in the garden.
Jim and I ran around to the front of the house and waited. In a few minutes, some one came rattling at the front door, and I was sure it was Jack. But it was Mr. Morris, and without a word to us, he set off almost running toward the town. We followed after him, and as we hurried along, other men ran out from the houses along the streets, and either joined him, or dashed ahead. They seemed to have dressed in a hurry, and were thrusting their arms in their coats, and buttoning themselves up as they went. Some of them had hats and some of them had none, and they all had their faces toward the great, red light that got brighter and brighter ahead of us. "Where's the fire?" they shouted to each other. "Don't know—afraid it's the hotel, or the town hall. It's such a
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