Bert gave his lads the order to halt, when the engine was about fifty feet away from the burning shacks.

"Run out the hose!" he called to Tom Donnell. "The rest of you stand ready with the hooks, and, as soon as Tom has got her pretty near out, pull the boards apart so he can get out the last spark."

Quickly was the hose unreeled. Bert stood near the engine, ready to swing the lever and turn the valve wheel that would send the hot sulphuric acid into the soda water. Then, when there was a good head of gas accumulated in the cylinder, he would open another valve, and the fire-quenching fluid would spurt from the hose.

There was a hiss as the breaking of the glass holding the vitriol was followed by the instant generation of gas.

"Here she comes!" cried Bert, as he turned the valve.

A second later a white, foamy stream jetted from the nozzle, and sprayed into the midst of the blaze. The flames began to die down as if by magic.

But Vincent was not a second behind Bert in getting his machine into operation.

"Lively, boys!" he cried, and the hose was unreeled, the stream playing almost at the same instant as was Bert's.

The spectators set up a cheer. This was something few of them had seen. The chemical engines were proving what they could do. Whether the blaze at which Vincent's crew directed their stream was not as fierce as the other was not disclosed, but in spite of the fact that Bert's engine was the first in operation by a narrow margin, the blaze Vincent was fighting began to die down quicker.

"We'll win!" cried Vincent. "Our fire's out, and theirs is blazing good yet!"

A few seconds later, however, Tom Donnell had succeeded in taming the last of the leaping flames.

"Now, boys, tear her apart!" ordered Bert, and the lads with the long hooks began scattering the still glowing embers of the boards that had formed the shack. As soon as they did so, parts of the shed not touched by the chemical, began to blaze.

"Douse her, Tom!" cried the young chief, and Tom did so with good effect.

Meanwhile Vincent's crowd, thinking they had put their fire out, had turned away, while Vincent shut off the valve that controlled the outlet from the tank. No sooner had this been done than the fire in their shack blazed up again.

"Look!" cried John Boll, one of Vincent's crew.

"Turn on the stream!" shouted several of the lads. Vincent tried to do so, but before he could work it the shack was blazing again, almost as fiercely as before. He had been too confident that the fire was out.

By the time he got his stream to spurting again, Bert had the other fire completely out, so that only a little steam came from the pile of blackened embers.

"We win!" cried Cole Bishop.

"Yes, I guess you do," assented Mr. Bergman, who was the umpire. "I'll have to award you the decision. Now, Bert, fill your tank again, and get ready for the real contest, which will take place in about an hour."

"I'm glad you won, Bert," said Vincent, generously, coming over, and shaking hands with the young chief.

"Thanks. You see I thought the blaze was smouldering under the wood, and I was ready for it."

"I'll be, next time. I hope you win the trumpet."

"Well, so do I, for the sake of Lakeville. But these other departments have had more practice than we have."

All the members of the Lakeville fire corps turned in to help get Bert's engine ready for the main contest of the day. The tank was refilled with soda water, and a new bottle of sulphuric acid put in the holder, for a supply of the chemicals had been brought along for that purpose.

The other companies were also preparing for the contest. The Jamesville crowd had an engine just like these which Mr. Bergman had purchased for Lakeville. The machines from Northville Centre and Weedsport were different, but worked on the same principle.

"Are you all ready?" asked Mr. Bergman, when the four companies were lined up on the edge of the wood, ready for the race to the shacks. The various chiefs answered that they were. The word was given to fire the sheds, and soon four clouds of black smoke were ascending to the sky, while the flames began to roar.

"Don't start until I give the word," cautioned Mr. Bergman. "I want the fires to get a good headway."

Anxiously the members of the four companies stood lined up, ready for the signal. Grouped around them was a big throng.

"Be ready to jump, boys," cautioned Bert, in a low voice to his lads. "But be careful not to stumble."

"We're all ready," replied Cole, looking back at the line of boys who grasped the rope.

The flames were crackling more loudly. Greater clouds of smoke from the burning oil rolled into the air. The heat from the blazing shacks could be felt some distance away.

"Why doesn't he give the word?" asked Tom Donnell, impatiently.

Members of the other companies were inquiring the same thing. Mr. Bergman stood with his watch in his hand. He looked at the four fires. Then he called:

"Get ready!"

The boys tightened their grip on the rope. They leaned forward, prepared to spring at the command.

"Go!" shouted the umpire, and the four companies were off as one.

Over the open field they dragged the engines, the big wheels rumbling like subdued thunder. The crowd began to cheer, men and boys calling to their ............