LITMIR.BIZ

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sir. I'm bound for Redrock to look for work."

      As the two walked along, Jack related what had happened in Corney.

      "Well, I declare! I'm lucky any way," declared Farmer Farrell, "I got my money out of the bank a month ago. It's too bad, though, for you. What did you say you were?"

      "I'm a machinist," replied Jack, and then suddenly: "Perhaps I can fix up your patent rake and your grindstone. I'll do a good job and won't overcharge you."

      To this Farmer Farrell, who was taken by Jack's appearance, agreed, and a few minutes later led the way up a lane to a well-stocked farm.

      Down in the barn the young machinist found the things that needed repairing. He looked everything over carefully.

      "I'll bring my tools to-morrow and fix them up," he said. "If I get work in Redrock I'll do the work early in the morning or after I quit."

      "And the cost?"

      "About five or six dollars."

      "Cheap enough. Go ahead."

      "I will. I'll be on hand early in the morning and do a good job," replied Jack.

      The young machinist met with no success at Redrock, and returned in an hour to Corney. Deb was pleased to hear that some work, at least, had been procured.

      "It will pay the rent anyway," said Jack, "and that's something. Perhaps, too, it may get me some more jobs like it."

      "That's so," replied Deb, her face brightening.

      In the evening Jack worked on his model. But he went to bed at ten o'clock, so as to be up early the next morning.

      "Jack! Jack! Wake up!"

      It was Deb's voice from the next room that aroused him in the middle of the night.

      "There is a big fire over on the hill," she continued, "just look out of the window."

      But Jack was already up.

      "You're right!" he replied. "It's a whopper, too!" he continued, as the flames shot skyward, making all as bright as day. "I'll have to go," he added.

      "Must you?"

      "Certainly, it's my duty to serve."

      For Jack was a duly enlisted member of the Corney Volunteer Fire Department.

      He hurried into his clothing as rapidly as possible, and jumped down the stairs three at a time.

      "Don't get hurt!" called Deb after him.

      The engine house was but a few blocks away. When Jack arrived there, he found that the machine had been dragged out into the street but no further.

      "Why don't you catch hold?" he called to a crowd of men who stood on the sidewalk.

      "It's old Gray's house!" exclaimed one man, "and it can burn to the ground for all I care."

      "He don't help us; now let him help himself," put in another.

      "Oh, pshaw! It won't do any good to act that way!" said Jack. "Come, catch hold like men."

      Jack was naturally a leader, and when he grasped the rope three other young fellows followed, and in a moment the engine was on its way.

      "It's too bad it's Mr. Gray's house," thought the machinist. "It will make him harder-hearted than ever."

      He gave no thought as to how the conflagration had originated, and did his best to get the engine to the spot.

      But, as has been stated, the place was up hill, and by the time they had made their way along the unpaved road, the fire had gained such headway that it was useless to pour water on the burning building, and all attention was directed to saving the adjoining property.

      The heat was intense, and Jack, who was often at the nozzle of the hose, suffered greatly from this and the smoke.

      In an hour the fire was declared under control, and a little later the order came to take up the hose and go home.

      Jack worked with a will. He had done his duty, and now he was anxious to return, tell Deb all about it, and get to bed again.

      While helping to wind the hose upon its carriage, he was suddenly approached by Mr. Gray, accompanied by a stranger.

      "There he is!" were Mr. Gray's first words, addressed to the stranger.

      The man laid his hand upon Jack's shoulder.

      "I want you," he said, quietly.

      "What for?" asked Jack.

      "I arrest you for setting fire to Mr. Gray's house," was the startling reply.

      "Arrest me!" exclaimed the young machinist. "What do you mean? I never set fire to any one's house."

      "Oh, yes, you did," put in the manufacturer. "Only you didn't expect to be caught."

      "It's false, I-"

      "It's true. You shall suffer heavily for this night's work," went on Mr. Gray, bitterly. "We'll see if the law allows tenants who won't pay their rents to set their landlords' houses on fire! Watch him Parker, don't let him escape you!"

      "Mr. Gray, I never-" began Jack.

      "Come along," broke in the officer, roughly. "You can do your talking in the morning."

      And without further words Jack was marched off to the Corney jail.

      CHAPTER IV

      BAD NEWS FOR DEB

      After her brother Jack had gone, Deb stood by the window a long time, watching the progress of the fire. She beheld the flames shoot up, heard the shrill whistle of the engines, and the shouts of the firemen, and finally saw the light subside.

      She opened the window, and from the conversation of the passers-by she learned that it was Mr. Felix Gray's mansion that had been burned.

      The little bronze clock upon the kitchen shelf struck four.

      "Jack will be returning soon," she thought, "and he'll be awfully tired, too."

      An hour passed. She had put on a loose wrapper and sat in the rocker, moving gently forward and backward. Presently the curly head began to nod, and after one or two feeble attempts to rouse up, Deb sank calmly into the land of dreams.

      When she awoke, she found it was broad daylight, and the tread of many feet upon the pavement outside told that work had already begun.

      "Eight o'clock!" exclaimed the girl. "What can keep Jack so long?"

      Then the thought struck her that her brother had returned and retired without waking her, but a glance revealed the empty bed.

      Deb's face blanched a trifle as the idea crossed her mind that maybe something had happened, after all. Fires were such dreadful things, with falling chimneys and half-burned staircases, and Jack was so daring, and so ready to risk his life for the benefit of others.

      "I'll go down to Mrs. Snitzer's and find out about it," was her conclusion, and locking the door she descended the stairs.

      Mrs. Snitzer was a German woman, who, with her husband and three stalwart sons, occupied the floor below. She was a stout, kindly-faced woman of about fifty, had been Deb's neighbor for a year, and took a genuine interest in the girl and her brother.

      "Your brudder no got home yet from der fire?" she said, after Deb had stated the object of her morning call; "I thought der fire vas out long ago. Mine boys come home, and vent to ped again, aput five o'clock. Da don't work now, so da say: 'Mudder, ve take a goot sleep for vonce in our lifes;'" she added, with a broad smile.

      "Jack's out of work, too," said Deb, soberly.

      "Yah? Vat a shame! Nefer mind, it don't last forefer. Come, have some coffee mit me. My man ist gone out for the baber. He come back soon."

      The good woman set out one of her low chairs, and knowing that Mrs. Snitzer's invitations were genuine, the girl sat down, and allowed herself to be helped to a bowl of the steaming beverage, accompanied by several slices of sugared zweibach.

      Just as the two were finishing Mr. Snitzer came in, paper

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