What a demonstration awaited the victors when they trundled their engine back to the grove! It seemed that every man from Lakeville wanted to shake hands with the boys.

"You've done the town more good than if you gave it a marble monument!" exclaimed Mayor Appelby, enthusiastically, as he greeted Herbert. "You've woke our sleepy village up, and I look for better times now. I'm going to run for mayor again. It's an honor."

"We'll see who'll be mayor," murmured Moses Sagger, who had come to the picnic after all. "If them boys think they can run things they'll find themselves very much mistaken."

The other engine companies, now that the fires were out, returned to the grove. They gathered around Bert and his lads, while Mr. Bergman, with a neat little speech, presented the young chief with a handsome silver trumpet.

"And while I wish you all success," he said in conclusion, "I also hope that through this trumpet you may give the order 'Take up' as quickly at every fire which occurs in Lakeville, as you did it to-day in this contest. You boys certainly worked fast, and I believe the 'devouring element,' as the poets call it, will take a back seat, now that we have such an efficient department to handle our two chemical engines."

"Hurrah for Lakeville!" yelled half a hundred voices.

"Three cheers for Mr. Bergman!" shouted others.

"Three cheers for the boys with the hand engine!" proposed Bert, for he wanted to encourage the little chaps.

"They couldn't have put that fire out if it hadn't been for my force- pump!" murmured Cole, amid the cheers that followed.

"Say, if you mention force-pump again to-day," threatened Tom Donnell, "we'll stand you up in front of it, and douse you good."

"Well, it's a fine pump," retorted Cole, taking care to get beyond Tom's reach.

There was more cheering and applause, the unfortunate Weedsport crew being given an extra cheer to make up for the bad luck it had encountered.

There were more games, a great dinner, some speech-making by the men, additional athletic contests among the firemen, and the picnic was brought to a close.

"Line up, Lakeville!" cried Herbert, through his trumpet. The boys manned the ropes of the three engines, including the old hand affair. They made a brilliant picture in their red shirts, blue trousers and shining helmets, and Bert proudly carried the glistening trophy where it would show to the best advantage.

With final cheers for each other the four fire departments separated, to march to their respective villages. It had been a great day, and, as Mr. Bergman had said, Lakeville had taken several steps forward in the way of progress.

"Well, we didn't do so bad," remarked Vincent to Bert, as they were on their way along the home road.

"No," replied the young chief, "but there's one thing we've got to look out for."

"What's that?"

"We must not use so much of the solution out of the tank. A small stream will do as much work, and it will last longer."

"That's so. We can't fill the tanks up very well while a fire is in progress."

"That's it. This afternoon, if the blaze had lasted a few minutes longer, there wouldn't have been any chemicals to squirt on it. It was my fault. I opened the valve too wide. We must remember that when we have a real fire."

As the young firemen entered the village, many, who had been to the picnic, but had come home early, crowded out to see them. The bells on the three engines clanged out in peals of victory, and when Bert started up a song, his comrades joined in with him.

As the two companies separated, one to go to the town hall, and the other to Cole's barn, a man stepped from the crowd, and approached Bert.

"Well, I see you won," he remarked pleasantly, and the young chief, looking up, saw the tramp he had rescued from the water.

"Yes. Were you there?"

"I saw the final contest. Couldn't get away to spend the whole day, though I would have liked to. I had to work."

"Where are you working? In town here?" asked Bert, for he was quite interested in the young man.

"Yes, I'm employed at the Stockton mansion."

"At the Stockton mansion?" repeated Bert, greatly surprised. What he had heard regarding that mysterious house came freshly to his mind. "Why, I didn't know there was any business being done there, Mr.--er-- Mr. ah--"

He paused, for it just occurred to him that he did not know the tramp's name.

The tramp--no, we shall call him that no more, for he was no longer of that class--the man, then, smiled.

"Decker is my name," he said. "Mortimer Decker, though most of my friends--what few I have left--call me Mort. As I consider you a friend of mine, you may do so, Herbert. You see I know your name, for you're sort of a public character."

"I don't know about that, but I'm glad you've gotten a place, Mort."

"Yes, after my little experience in the brook I decided to get some work to do here if possible. I heard that the man who lived in that big mansion was rich, and I thought he might want a private secretary, or a stenographer and typewriter. I learned who lived there, but when I inquired at the place an old woman said Mr. Stockton had gone away."

"I believe h............