The Banner Boy Scouts Mystery. George A. Warren
I told him about it, he would give it over to the police, and then it would get into the newspapers and then everybody would know about it. And the guilty man, even if he is crazy, would know better than to do anything to give himself away. As it is, nobody knows, except the three of us, and by a little quiet work we may track the culprit down.”
“I think you did right,” spoke up Paul.
“That is to be seen,” added Ken skeptically.
The boys walked down to Leonard Street and Jack pointed out the exact spot where he came upon Betty. The neighborhood was one occupied mostly by the poorer people of the town. Of course, there was nothing to be found in the way of clues. They walked all around the neighborhood and noticed the various shacks and empty lots but did not come across any man that was tall and kindly looking. At last they decided to give up the search and go to a meeting of their boy scout troop, the Red Fox Patrol.
All the other boys—Nuthin’, The Carberry twins, William and Wallace, Bobolink, Bluff—were already there when the three arrived. Pressed for information, Jack for the third time re-told his story.
CHAPTER II
Several days passed and although the boys had not forgotten the incident, they did nothing to look for the culprit. The only evidence they had was the white card and the information that the man was tall.
It was about five-thirty and the boys were coming from the baseball field. Paul and William, walking ahead, turned into Water Street, and the rest of the boys followed them. At about the middle of the street, they suddenly heard the weird cry, “Fire! Help! Fire!”
The boys stopped in their tracks and looked around to find where the cry was coming from. Paul began to run and the boys followed him. They came upon a two story frame house. Dense clouds of smoke came billowing out of the doorway. Paul turned to the one nearest him, who happened to be William, and ordered, “Call the Fire Department! Hurry!”
William set off at a run. Paul, followed by the other boys, ran to the back of the house. He cried, “A couple of you try to find buckets and water. The others stick around and form a water brigade until the firemen come.”
Pushing open the back door, he dashed into the house. He noticed that the smoke was dense at the front door. Just as he turned to run up the stairs, tongues of flames shot out of the smoke. The thought came to him that the fire had started at the front door. But how? Why? At the front door, of all places.
He raced upstairs and threw open the first door that he came upon. No one there. He dashed for the next room. An old man and woman, in their late seventies, if not older, were rushing back and forth, picking up things and dropping them. They were so bewildered, they did not know what to do. As Paul dashed in, they rushed at him and clung to his arms. They were absolutely speechless; they did nothing but tremble. Paul shook them off and rushed to the window, threw it open and cried to the boys below, “Get a ladder! Get a ladder!”
He looked for the firemen but they had not yet arrived. Every second seemed to him an hour. He saw the boys scatter in a frantic search for a ladder. The five minutes that elapsed to procure a ladder seemed like an age. At last Bobolink came running up with a ladder and he placed it under the window. But it was too short, and Paul cried, “Get something to stand it on. A box. Anything.”
Bobolink scurried to find something upon which to stand the ladder. A minute later he returned with a soap box. The ladder was stood on the box and several of the boys supported it. Paul helped the old woman through the window onto the ladder. “One of you boys climb up and help her down.”
He saw the boys hesitate. Evidently they thought that the ladder would not hold. In the meanwhile, the woman, trembling and bewildered, almost fell from the ladder. Bluff raced up and directed the woman’s legs, rung by rung. The old woman at last descended and collapsed in Ken’s arms. Paul turned to the old man. “Is there anybody else in the house?” he asked briskly.
The old man nodded his head vigorously. “Downstairs,” his trembling lips mumbled. “A baby in a crib.”
“Which room?”
The old man’s teeth chattered so violently that he could not speak. Again Paul demanded to know which room the child was in but the old man could not talk. He almost hurled the man through the window as he helped him to gain a footing on the ladder. Without waiting another instant, Paul dashed out of the room and down the stairs which by now were crackling with flames. The last couple of steps were so badly burned that he had to jump. He scurried about wildly and at last found what he was searching for—a pail of water. Dipping his handkerchief into it, he clasped the wet rag over his mouth and nostrils. Layers of heavy smoke whirled all about him. He walked along the wall and listened carefully. An infant’s wailing came to his ears and he searched frantically for the door. Finding it at last, he threw it open and stepped in quickly. He brought in with him a dense cloud of smoke. He moved blindly about the room, directed only by the cries of the infant. He stumbled against the crib and clasped the child to him. Smoke entered his lungs and he began to cough. He felt choked and was sure he was going to collapse before he managed to get out. He heard a shattering crash. Someone had broken the window and he ran to it. He felt someone take the child from him and direct him to the broken window. Someone lifted him almost bodily through the window and the next moment he fainted.
About fifteen or twenty minutes after the alarm had been sent in, the Volunteer Fire Brigade came clanging down the street. Immediately they pulled out the hose and set to work. Captain Bob was there. It was he who had helped Paul through the window. About a minute after Paul had been taken out of the house, there was a terrible shattering and crackling. From all sides of the house streaks of flame spurted forth, until the whole building was enveloped in a sheet of flame.
Paul came to and opened his eyes to find his father bending over him. “Are you all right, fellow?” Dr. Morrison asked.
Paul sat up and blinked his eyes. He nodded. “I’m all right, Dad. What are you doing here?”
“Just happened to come along.”
His father helped him to his feet and he found the boys crowding around him. “How do you feel?” asked William.
Paul nodded. Ken remarked, “Some fire eater you are.”
He smiled and turned to watch the firemen fighting the blazing structure. “What happened to the old couple?” he asked.
“They are all right,” answered Nuthin’. “They wouldn’t have been, though, if it hadn’t been for you.”
Bobolink added, “The child would surely have perished if not for you, Paul.”
Just then a policeman came and pushed them all back. Some moments later the front door fell in with a shattering thud. The firemen poured gallons of water into the blaze but it did not seem to help. The fire ate through the wooden house and ten minutes later one of the walls collapsed. A groan rose up from the watching crowd and some turned their heads away. As the wall collapsed tongues of flame and dense smoke came shooting out. Some of the firemen retreated and then returned to continue their struggle with the blaze.
Another wall caved in and eventually the roof of the house came crashing down. Captain Bob realized that further effort was futile and he ordered his firemen to just stand around and let the fire burn itself out. Soon the house was a heap of ashes and smoldering pieces of wood. The firemen left and the crowd dispersed.
CHAPTER III
Jack was sitting on the Morrison porch. It was about eight o’clock in the evening of the same day. Ken came walking up through the yard. “Hello, Ken.”
“Hello, Jack. What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for Paul.”
Ken came onto the porch and sat down beside his friend. “Did Paul call you too?” he asked.
“That’s right. He told me over the telephone that he had something important to talk over.”
“He told me the same thing. I wonder what it is.”
“Perhaps