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THE PERT FIRE ENGINE
Gelett Burgess
There were many fire engines, members of the Fire Depart-
ment of the City oX’ Ligg, but of all the number, the most ill-
behaved was the disreputable little Number Four. He was
known all over the city as the black sheep of the flock, and every
one knew the stories of his mischief.
In spite of his evil deeds he was a very handsome machine,
wearing a pretty coat of enamel, and all his fittings were nickeled,
so that they shone like silver buttons. He always had silken
hose, too, for he was very rich. But he usually was the last
engine at the fire, and he was always sure to shirk. He would
hold back when he was signalled to ”Play away, FouXy’ and he
would squirt a stream strong enough to drench the Chief, whim
he should have held back. He consumed an enormous amount
of the most expensive fuel, and he wheezed and puffed till the air
shook with vibrations. He could have been the best engine in
the fire department if he had wanted to, but he didn’t.
So the people of the City o’ Ligg were not very much sur-
prised when they heard that Number Four had run away.
They hoped only that he would stay away, for they could get
along much better without him. “He’s more trouble than he’s
worth,” said an old ladder-cart. “Fve been tempted more than
once to fall on him and break his boiler for him. He wouldn’t
even have his hose darned, because he prefers to leak all over
the street!”
For a few weeks Number Four enjoyed his truancy. He
spent most of his time down by a lake, a little outside the city,
and there he amused himself by going in swimming, and squirting
water over himself like an elephant, till he shone brilliantly in
the sunshine. When he was tired of that, he went around to
the farm houses, and sucked all the water out of their wells, and
flooded their cellars. The stables were all very much afraid of
him, but dared not complain, though they told their fences to
catch him if they could.
Another favorite game of his was to fill his tank with water,
and squirt it at the windmills, playing on their sails so as to make
the wheels spin backwards. This made many of the windmills
so dizzy that they had to stop pumping for weeks.
But at last Number Four grew tired of this mischief in the
country, and he began to cast about for something more exciting
to do. So one night he loaded himself with water and rolled
into the City o’ Ligg.
He drew up before a two-story house that was not painted,
but only whitewashed, and began to squirt water all over her.
The poor little house shut all her doors and windows, but even
then she was drenched to the skin, and after an hour or so, almost
all the whitewash was soaked off, and she stood cold, dripping
and shivering in the night air, with her naked boards streaked
with white. The naughty fire engine laughed brutally at her
distress, and went back to the lake to concoct more mischief.
Every night after that, Number Four went into the town and
drenched the houses, laughing, as he poured streams of cold water
down their chimneys, breaking their windows, washing away
their foundations, and splashing them all over with muddy water.
At last it got to be altogether too much to endure, and the
houses consulted together to see how Number Four could be
caught and punished. They could think of no way, however,
and so, after the fire engine had showered a very old and respect-
able church, and given it a severe cold, they applied to the tele-
graph office to help them.
The telegraph office was by far the cleverest building in the
City o’ Ligg, but it took him some time to think of a remedy
for this trouble. He consulted, by wire, with all the offices
around Ligg, and at last they decided upon a plan.
Notice was sent to all the telegraph poles to strip off their
wires and come into Ligg for further orders. The next day the
houses were surprised to see a procession of long, naked telegraph
poles march into town, each with a roll of wire on his arm. They
marched up to the telegraph office that night and received their
instructions.
As soon as it was dark, the poles separated this way and
that, going some to one part of the town, and some to another,
till the whole city was surrounded. For several hours, while
the houses slept in peace, the poles worked, going in and out
with the wires till they had woven a fence all round the town.
At the principal entrances, they left the streets free for the fire
engine to get in; but they contrived big V-shaped traps here
and there, which could be closed by the poles at a moment’s
notice. It was by this time twelve o’clock, the hour when
Number Four usually appeared, and when all the town was
quiet the poles waited for the bad engine to come.
At last they heard the rumble of wheels on the road from the
lake, and in the dark they saw a bright light approaching; it was
the fire in the naughty engine, who was puffing his way into the
town, chuckling to himself over the fun he was to have with
the Town Hall that night; for he had planned to fill the whole
of the third story with water before he came back.
Number Four came up to the city gate, with no suspicion
of what was awaiting him, and boldly rolled up the main avenue,
past the double line of sleeping houses. There was one house
that was snoring with a rough noise, and the fire engine turned
with a laugh and sent a stream of water through the window.
Suddenly the telegraph poles closed round him; they waved
and towered over his head, they lay on the ground across his
road, they threatened to fall upon him. The poor engine was
terrified out of his senses. He backed and jumped, he whistled
and groaned, and he spouted a black column of smoke out of his
funnel, and sent streams of water in every direction. Suddenly
seeing an opening, he darted back toward the gate, but he soon
found himself walled in by the wire fences. He tried another
way and another, but there was no escape; the wires hemmed
him in on all sides, till he finally was stuck so fast that he could
not move, and he stood panting, waiting to see what would
happen next.
His wheels were tied, and his fires put out, and the next
morning the poor, shame-faced engine was pulled into town
past the lines of houses, who jeered at him scornfully. He was
led into the Park in the center of the City o’ Ligg, and there,
where all the principal buildings could see, he was severely scolded
by the Mayor. It was a long lecture, telling all the story of
his wickedness, and ending with the sentence that was to be
inflicted upon him as a punishment. One by one they took off
his bright red gold wheels, they took off his pole, and Whipple
trees, his seat-cushions, and tool-box, and then they dug a deep
hole in the middle of the Park, by the side of a well, put him
in, covered him with dirt, and sodded over the burial place.
And so now when the tourists in the City o’ Ligg compliment
the Mayor upon the beautiful fountain that plays night and day
in the middle of the Park, sending up a straight stream of water
a hundred feet in the air, the Mayor says:
“Oh, yes; quite so, quite so! That is the naughty fire engine,
little Number Four, working out his time of punishment. He
was put in for twenty years, but if he behaves well, we’re going
to let him out in nineteen!”
