cripple some of them, for, his eyes glaring, his muscles bulging to the work, he acted like some fairly irresponsible being.
Within two minutes' time the last one of the mob had vanished into the street. Flinging the pole away from him, Fogg began looking for his cap, which had blown off his head as he came rushing down the alley at cyclone speed.
Clark stared at the fireman in petrified wonder. Ralph stood overwhelmed with uncertainty and amazement.
"Mr. Fogg, I say, Mr. Fogg!" he cried, running after the fireman and catching at his sleeve, "How—why"
"Boy," choked out Lemuel Fogg, turning a pale, twitching face upon Ralph, "don't say a word to me!"
And then with a queer, clicking sob in his throat, the fireman of No. 999 hastened down the alley looking for his cap.
