several fat men who had grasped the rope. By and by they came to a farmer
in a red shirt who pointed his spectacles at them across the top-rail of
the fence at the right of the road.

"Where's the' fire, squire?" excitedly asked the foreman.

"Fire? I don't know of fire," replied the farmer, coolly, "at leastways,
any fire that is worth puttin' out. I have got a bonfire in back here, and
it was purty big, and its smoke you may have seen in the village. If you
want to stretch your muscle and soak your hose--and that is about all you
engine-people do--you may come and play on my bonfire."

"Come and play on _you_" shouted an angry voice.

"Put out _him_" screamed another.

"Play away, One," bawled a third, giving the number of the engine as known
at fires.

There was now a half-joking, half-angry comment on the "squire," and there
were enough there desirous of wetting down, not his bonfire, but its
builder. The foreman quieted the strife and the "Cataract" started for
home. A willingness was expressed to moisten "Miss Persnips's place"
because she had misled them, though it was unintentional on her part.

Some one sang out, "She can't tell about smoke. She has only one good eye,
and t'other one is a glass eye."

This put them all in a good-natured mood, and the "Cataract" went home.