they became aware of a commotion in the street below them, the tracks here being elevated. There was a clanging of bells, and much shouting.
"Something doing down there," remarked Blake.
"Yes, it's a fire!" cried Joe, as he caught a lurid reflection in the evening sky. "Looks like a big one, too. Shall we take it in?"
"Might as well. We can come down on a later train, and telephone Mr. Ringold. And say, you've got that little moving picture camera with you; haven't you?"
"Yes, I brought it along. Wasn't room to put it in the trunk."
"Then come on. We'll get some views of this fire. We can use them nicely, and it isn't likely that there'll be anyone else on the job. Come on and get the camera."
"We can't! The train's already started!" cried Joe, for the express was slowly moving.
"Yes, we can! I'll get it!" shouted Blake, as he sprang into the car where they had left their baggage. The train was now rapidly gathering headway, the whine and hum of the big motors of the electric engine mingling with the clang of the fire bells, and the shouts of the crowd in the streets below.
