Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 155: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TEAKETTLE TEN. commander, and spat. ‘“ Too late to stop it now. It’s done for, even if we get help. ‘Things is at a pretty pass, ain’t it? One pumper at a fire!” “Thirty-Two may get here.” Driver Malone dared treason. “Get here?” Sullivan leaped out into the offending drift and tried to budge the near horse forward. ‘On that wagon? Not with mules! ‘T’ain’t no place to talk.” He stopped Malone sharply. “ Hydrant!” the voice of Pipeman Henry came out of the white fog. He had found the fire plug. The horses pressed forward, at the bang of the flat bell. The wheels moved. Captain Sullivan grunted. He knew his team would get there. Another turn and his satisfaction fled. “Get up!” he bellowed. Buck and Mack, the lean fast pair, tried again and stopped. The, front wheels rocked. It was no good coaxing. Over- side, leaning down, Stone Age Sullivan saw the top of the wheels settle and disappear in soft, sticky pockets of snow. The hose wagon of Engine Ten was stuck for the night. Stone Age Sullivan knew the feel of it. “Vou Stetmel, Malone, Henry!” he cried, standing up on the dashboard. “ Un, hitch—take this here team back to the en- gine. Make a four line, drag the pumper ’round.” The men slid in behind the horses, and fumbled at snaps with cold, stiff fingers. Once Malone looked up quickly, and saw a burning board lifted high above the flame- crowned warehouse. He grunted, and spoke softly to the team. It waded out now, con- fused, unencumbered by the hose wagon. Malone drove back to the engine that was creeping through the heaps. It was easier to get ahead with four horses. “Over here!” Stone Age Sullivan was crying. “ Bring ’em up here—plug! Hy- drant here!” The heaving double hitch plowed sixty yards from the water main—fifty—forty. _ Then a drift rubbed the leaders’ bent heads. Four horses leaned on their tugs, and the engine stuck. “Leave me at ’em, I'll move ’em!” 10 A @,. 189 Sullivan thrashed angrily toward the Tea- Kettle. He stumbled and kicked up a cloud of snow for the wind to play with, fell once more, staggered up, reached toward the bit of the near horse. Jenkins, the engine driver, used his whip the same instant. The long, black line snapped. Buck seemed sulky to the master of the other team. He laid his thong on the balky head. The big horse jerked. Its teeth came down savagely and Stone Age Sullivan gave a short, gritting cry. Buck snorted. Drops of red showed from his nose. Down on his knees, Stone Age Sullivan gripped his right hand, tried to warm it with his breath through his bloody, frozen glove. “Hurt?” screamed Jenkins. Sullivan, staggering up, did not answer. “Use your whip again!” he ordered. ‘Slam him hard! Bitin’ devil! We ain’t Stuck, that lead horse! I say—” Wind beat out his voice. He reached up his left hand and pulled the horses on. With plunges and heaves the double team, their sides swelling, dragged Teakettle Ten into position beside the hydrant. Lame Ike Razmus, the engineer, pounded the fire box with coal. “Got to work quick,” he growled, “ or the snow’ll put out me light!” “‘ Couple up that there suction!” ordered Stone Age Sullivan, slipping his bleeding © hand back into its glove. You don’t need shovels! backbone!” Malone and Henry jerked the suction pipe off its rack. Jenkins made it tight to the plug. Snow froze on his spanner. Their commander bellowed: “Now the rest of you—back to the wagon! Get off ten section of hose—ten section—give me that nozzle! I'll lead out!” The hide warehouse was spitting fire out of every window in the top floor. A stench of burning tallow spread through the wet air. Stone Age Sullivan stopped in snow that oozed over the tops of his boots, put his unhurt hand to his left ear. It was quiet behind him. Engine Thirty-Two had stopped its siren. Mike McQuire must be digging—let ’im dig! “Couple up! All you need’s (©) Gomicsdoo