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Updated: July 24, 2025
It was a "round trip" to Lakeville: he was evidently going there for a visit, and therefore, said Larsen, he didn't get off at Sablon Station, which was six miles above. But Armitage knew better. It was evident that he had quietly slipped out on the platform of the car after the regular passengers had got out of the way, and let himself off into the darkness on the side opposite the station.
In the rear of the engine came five other lads, armed with axes and long hooks, which were part of the new equipment. In the second division was Vincent and his company, while at the rear brought up the smaller boys with the hand engine. Altogether it made a fine showing for Lakeville.
When night fell over Lakeville, Wisconsin, the sunset, which had flickered rather than glowed in the western sky, took upon itself a still more boreal tremulousness, until at last it seemed to fade away in cold blue shivers to the zenith. Nothing else stirred; in the crisp still air the evening smoke of chimneys rose threadlike and vanished.
She would not allow herself to stand in her lover's way. "The usual people are coming. It will be just our monthly gathering of neighbouring moss-backs," with a laugh. "The Turners, the Furrers Peter Furrers, of course; he still hopes to cut you out and the girls; old Gleichen and his two sons, Harry and Tim. And the Ganthorns from Rosebank and their cousins the Covills of Lakeville.
Jamesville folks can't laugh at us any longer for not having an engine. I'm proud to live in Lakeville, and I didn't use to be. Guess I'll run for mayor again." "I thought you said you wasn't going to," said Mr. Sagger quickly, as he knew he was pretty sure of the nomination, if the genial Mr. Appelby, whom everyone liked, did not enter the contest. "Well, I've changed my mind.
"Line up, Lakeville!" cried Herbert, through his trumpet. The boys manned the ropes of the three engines, including the old hand affair. They made a brilliant picture in their red shirts, blue trousers and shining helmets, and Bert proudly carried the glistening trophy where it would show to the best advantage.
"Fire! Fire! Turn out, everybody! Fire! Fire!" This cry, coming like a clarion call, at midnight, awoke the inhabitants of the peaceful little New England village of Lakeville. "Fire! Fire!" Heads were thrust out of hastily-raised windows. Men and women looked up and down the street, and then glanced around to detect the reddening in the sky that would indicate where the blaze was.
"They were only in the way. We couldn't use the cistern." "I guess it's just as well they got there first," went on the mayor of Lakeville. "This looked like a bad blaze, and if it had got beyond control the whole house would have gone. It's as dry as tinder, and a regular death-trap." "Did you hear what started it, Mr. Appelby?" asked Cole, as he trimmed the lamps on the engine.
It was a desperate chance in a desperate game, for the Lakeville players were cool and experienced hands, and Ned was almost certain to be put out. However, he had chanced it. It was too late to go back now. He was running straight for home, as though there was no such thing as a baseman with a ball close behind him, waiting for a good chance to throw to the catcher and put him out.
Bergman, with a neat little speech, presented the young chief with a handsome silver trumpet. "And while I wish you all success," he said in conclusion, "I also hope that through this trumpet you may give the order 'Take up' as quickly at every fire which occurs in Lakeville, as you did it to-day in this contest.
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