An Amateur Fireman. Otis James

boy's curiosity had been satisfied, for at any instant an alarm might summon him to duty, and he impatiently called upon Seth to set about his work, or "clear out."

      Never before had the bootblack spent so much time over a single pair of boots; he polished them with his brushes until they shone like mirrors, then hardened the gloss with a piece of flannel, and when it seemed as if his work had been done to perfection, blackened the brilliant surface again with the hope of improving what had apparently been a great success.

      "You're not any too quick about the job; but there ain't a lad around here that could have done it better," 'Lish said approvingly, and would have given the boy a nickel, but that the latter drew back quickly.

      "I don't want anythin' for the shine; I'd like mighty well to give you one every day."

      "Do you go around working for thanks?" the driver asked with no little surprise.

      "Of course I take my pay from other folks; but I wouldn't let any fireman put up for a shine."

      "Why not?"

      "'Cause I'm jest the same as one myself – that is, I'm goin' into the Department when I'm old enough."

      "Stuck on the business, eh?"

      "That's jest the size of it!" Seth cried enthusiastically. "I tend out on most all the fires in Ninety-four's district, an' sometimes I get a chance to sneak inside the lines."

      "You do, eh? Well, I'll have an eye out after this, and if I get my hands on you there won't be any more such sneaking."

      "Now, what's the matter with my doin' a little thing like that? It don't hurt anybody, an' I pick up a good many points."

      "Some day a falling wall will knock you down, or you'll find yourself under the wheels of an engine, and then your 'points' won't be of any particular advantage."

      "I can take care of myself as well as you, an' if I don't knock 'round when there's a fire, how am I ever goin' to learn the business?"

      "You don't want to learn what's a dog's life at the best. Steer clear of it, lad, and put your mind on anything else, for a man don't last long at this kind of work; even if he doesn't get killed offhand, it's only a question of time – and in many cases a precious short time – before a fireman is laid on the shelf, worn out. Now, clear away from here if you won't take pay for the shine, and remember that I'll have my eye out after this to see you don't get inside the lines."

      Seth obeyed promptly with never a protest, and 'Lish said to the watchman at the desk:

      "That's a decent kind of a lad, and if he hangs around here any more there's no reason why we shouldn't throw a job in his way now and then."

      "How does that fit in with the lesson you read to him?"

      "I didn't try to make it fit. If I can scare him out of the notion he's got in his head, it'll show he ain't suited for this kind of a life; but if he sticks at it, I'll believe it's worth while to give him a lift now and then."

      If Seth could have heard this brief conversation he would, most likely, have indulged in the latest jig-step he had learned, and perhaps neglected his work as bootblack until hunger forced him to take up the brushes again; but he was ignorant of 'Lish's good intentions, and went away with a heavy heart, yet having no idea of abandoning his efforts to "learn the business."

      He did not cease to spend his spare moments about Ninety-four's house, and after 'Lish Davis had many times threatened the direst punishment if he persisted in such a course, but without effect, the members of the company came to look upon Seth as a boy of pluck, who would one day force his way into the Department.

      However, no one of Ninety-four's men had given him an opportunity for doing other than blacking boots, and the boy was entirely ignorant of their friendliness toward him.

      Such was the general position of affairs on the night when Dan Roberts believed it his duty to mildly reprove Seth for spending so much time in what seemed to be idleness when he should be looking for customers.

      After the master of the shed-home had announced so positively that he would be a fireman in due course of time, Dan, remembering how Jip Collins had lost his footing in the household, decided he had done his whole duty in the matter, and straight-way changed the subject of conversation by saying:

      "Sam Barney had mighty bad luck to-day. First off, somebody passed a lead dime on him, an' then he lost as many as fifteen cents at one slap."

      "How?" Seth asked with no slight show of interest.

      "That's what he can't make out. He had the money in the same pocket where he always carries it, when all of a sudden it was gone."

      "Somebody touched him."

      "Must be, an' Sam thinks he's got an idea who it is."

      "Can't be any of the reg'lar gang, 'cause I don't know a feller what would do a trick like that."

      "Sam's keepin' mighty close about it, an' I wouldn't wonder if he found the whole business out before long. He comes near to bein' a reg'lar detective, you know."

      "Who? Sam?"

      "Sure."

      "But what does he know about the detective business?"

      "Perhaps he's learnin' it same's you are the fireman's racket."

      This reduced Seth to silence, and Dan, fearing that he might have given offence, hastened to say in a most friendly tone:

      "Of course if a feller studies over anything of that kind he'll soon come somewhere near knowin' a little about it, an' Sam is posted in more ways than one."

      "Then how does it happen he let anybody go through him?"

      "That's the funny part of it, an' the folks what did it must have been mighty slick, 'cause, you see – "

      Dan was interrupted by the sound of footsteps near at hand, and ever on the alert against possible danger, Seth made his way to the door of the shed as he asked sharply:

      "Who's there?"

      "It's only me," a familiar voice replied, and he knew that the visitor was none other than the boy of whom he and his lodger had just been speaking.

      "Dan was tellin' me you'd lost your money. Didn't come up here reckonin' he or I'd got it, did you?"

      "I ain't any sich fool as that; but Jip Collins has been makin' a good deal of cheap talk this afternoon, an' I thought perhaps you'd like to know 'bout it."

      "He's allers doin' that, an' I reckon it's more wind than anythin' else."

      "I wouldn't wonder if this time he got right down to business, an' you ought'er keep a pretty sharp lookout, Seth. These are too snug quarters for you to lose through a feller like Jip."

      "Come inside and set down," Master Bartlett said as his lodger joined him at the door of the shed. "Dan an' me is here alone, an' you won't mind if it's dark, 'cause you see I promised Mr. Baxter straight out an' out that there shouldn't ever be any kind of a light inside. That's one of the things Jip kicked about, you know."

      Sam Barney promptly accepted the invitation. Being an old friend of Seth's, he was familiar with the household arrangements, and despite the darkness made his way through the shed to the box-like home in one corner, where, after some difficulty, he found a block of wood that served as chair.

      Seth threw himself upon the bed of shavings, and Dan lounged negligently near the entrance.

      "I should think it would be kind er lonesome in here nights when it's like this," Sam suggested as he tried in vain to distinguish the form of either of his companions.

      "Well, it ain't, 'cause Dan an' me don't spend a great deal of time settin' 'round after we once get in. We should have been asleep before this if he hadn't had considerable to say 'bout my tryin' to be a fireman. He'd jest got through when you came."

      "Well, say, Seth, you don't b'lieve you're ever goin' to get on to the Department, jest 'cause you run to every fire Ninety-four goes to, do you?"

      "I don't know why I can't be a fireman jest as easy as you can a detective, an' some of the fellers say you're workin' mighty hard to be