But now Bog's attention was diverted from Mr. Minford, and his heart was made to beat more rapidly by a new sight. While he had kept both eyes closely fixed upon the inventor, he had looked with an oblique, or reflected vision, into the other window of the room. This window was uncurtained, and Bog could distinctly see the chairs, bureau, and other articles of furniture. A new light (so Bog oddly thought) was suddenly irradiated through the darker portion of the apartment by the entrance of Pet from the hall. She had no bonnet on; and Bog reasoned (if he could be said to reason in his excited state) that she had been spending a part of the evening, as was often her wont, with a poor family, rich in children, who lived on the floor below. Her father smiled upon the problem before him, as a new difficulty melted away under his burning gaze. Then he turned, and smiled at Pet. She ran toward him, and he kissed her tenderly. Bog was devouring this little episode with open mouth and eyes, when the hoarse voice of Uncle Ith broke in upon the enchantment:
"Hallo! there's a fire."
"What! Where?" shouted Bog, forgetting where he was.
"Why, you blind man!" said Uncle Ith; "straight afore ye. Don't ye see it breaking out?"
Bog cast his eyes about him wildly; and, sure enough, directly in the range of Mr. Minford's house, but four or five blocks beyond, there was an illuminated streak of smoke curling up from a roof.
"It's in my district!" cried Uncle Ith. "So here goes." He seized the long iron lever near him, by which the enormous clapper of the bell was swung, and moved it like the handle of a pump. The second motion was followed by a hoarse sound, which shook the tower to its foundations, and started into listening attitudes a thousand firemen in their engine or hose houses, in the streets, at the theatres, or at their own homes.
"Sha'n't I help you?" asked Bog, who always proffered his services on these occasions.
"Pooh! no. It's baby play for me." By this time Uncle Ith had evoked the second gruff note from the deep throat of the imprisoned monster below. Then came a third in quicker succession, and louder, as if the bell had warmed up to the work, and then other notes, until the district had been struck; and then the bell, as if rejoicing in its strength to resist blows, murmured plaintively for a repetition of them. Long before this sad sound had died away, the deep bass of the City Hall bell, the shrill tenor of the Post Office bell, and the intermediate pitches of the bells all over the city, had taken up the chorus of alarm. There was a rattle of engines, hose carriages, and hook-and-ladder trucks through the streets. There was a frantic rush of men and boys, some with cumbrous fire-caps on their heads, and putting on their coats as they ran. How they knew the location of the fire, none could guess, for it had not yet streamed out against the sky; but know it they did; and the dove goes to its cote not more directly than they centred from all parts of the district upon the exact spot of the fire. Meanwhile, Uncle Ith lashed his mighty instrument into a sonorous fury; and all the other bells played their echo, even to the far-away tinkler on Mount Morris, which, having few fires in its own neighborhood to report, took a pleasure in telling its little world of those which were raging down town.
For the information of his uncle, and to atone in part for his previous neglect, Bog devoted only a half eye to the Minford family, and kept the rest of his optics on the fire. Just after its discovery, the smoke had loomed up dense and black, as if it were trying to suffocate the flames beneath. Then it changed rapidly to a light blue, and was chased faster upward by two tongues of fire. These tongues leaped aloft with a sudden impulse, and shed a revelation of light over acres of houses, and brought out church steeples in vivid relief against the sky, and put a new gilding on storm-beat en vanes and weathercocks. All this Bog described in his own way to his uncle; and his uncle, stooping at the lever, kept on ringing with unabated zeal; and all the other bells banged away like an orchestra of which Uncle Ith was the leader.
Then Bog saw the forms of men suddenly spring into sight, as if out of the very roof, between the two fiery tongues. The tongues licked the air about them with savage whirls; but the brave fellows dodged back, and were unhurt. Then, advancing boldly again, they released their hands from something which they had been holding, and lo! four jets of water struck at the very roots of the flames, tripped at them, and made them stagger, drove them twice into the roof, and caught them with deadly accuracy as they came out again; and, in less than five minutes, changed all their brave splendor to dull, black smoke, and set the victor's mark upon them--the column of white steam which arises from the half-quenched embers, and proclaims that the fire is put out of mischief at last.
"Nothing but a kind o' white smoke, now," said Bog.
Uncle Ith, who had just rung the last stroke of a round, relinquished the lever, and looked over the shoulder of his nephew. "The fire's out," said he. "When you see the steam comin' up that way, you may know that the water has whipped." The old man then seated himself in the backless chair, produced a short black pipe from a crossbeam overhead, and rewarded himself with a few long puffs.
When Uncle Ith had a pipe in his mouth, he became didactic, and he therefore proceeded to renew his donations of valuable advice to his nephew, who was still looking hard out of the southeast window.
Bog cocked his head on one side, to make a show of listening, and said "Yes, sir," now and then, which was all that his uncle expected of him. But his whole mind, and his heart, were in the little double-windowed room, where Pet was now practising upon the piano. Through the uncurtained glass, Bog could see her hands weaving music with the keys, and almost fancy he could hear it. The inventor bent over his machine, and plied the hammer, the chisel, and the file, on various parts of it. Now and then he would pause, stand erect, and look proudly toward his child, and keep time to her music with inclinations of his head. Bog, without knowing it, would do the same thing.
While the boy was gloating over this scene, unconscious of the swift passage of time, the clock on the nearest church struck nine. Bog sighed, for he knew that that was Pet's hour for bed. Sure enough. Her little hands shut up the piano, and neatly smoothed down the cloth over it. Then she lit a candle, ran up to her father and kissed him, and in a moment was lost from Bog's sight in her chamber. As she disappeared, the boy's lips murmured "Good-night" with a fervor which made that simple colloquial phrase both a prayer and a blessing.
When Pet had gone, Bog suddenly found that the night had become cold, and that he was beginning to shiver. So he shut the southeast window, and took a seat by the fire to warm himself before going home.