Frank looked at his watch.
"We've got twenty-five minutes," he replied. "Come on; if it's in the
neighborhood we can take a look at it."
Both boys started off on a run. They reached Spruce Street, and followed
the engine around the corner.
A dense volume of black smoke greeted them.
The crowd was thick, and the two had hard work making their way forward.
"_It's our place!_" cried out Frank suddenly. "And the whole store
is afire, too!"
"Our place!" ejaculated Richard. "Oh, I hope not!"
But it was only too true, and in a moment they stood opposite the
establishment of Williams & Mann, now all blaze from top to bottom.
"Stand back there!" exclaimed a burly policeman, waving his club at
both boys. "Stand back."
"We work in the place," explained Frank.
"Can't help it," was the reply. "The insurance patrol has charge of
the goods. You'll have to get out of the way. Lively, there!" added
the officer, as a hook and ladder truck came dashing up the street.
So Richard and Frank fell back into the crowd, and were immediately
joined by Bretzwartz, the German shipping-clerk.
"I guess the place is a goner," remarked Frank, as the flames shot out
of the upper windows.
"Wonder how it caught?" said Richard.
"Der poiler in der pasement busted," put in Bretzwartz.
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