"I'm going to dress and go, mother," said the boy. "I want to aid all
I can. We'd like help if our house was on fire."

"Oh, Herbert! Don't suggest such dreadful things!"

Mrs. Dare left her son's room, and in a few minutes he had dressed
sufficiently to go out.

"Now do be careful, Herbert," called his mother, as he ran downstairs.
"If anything should happen to you, I don't know what I'd do."

"I'll be careful."

Herbert Dare was the only son of a widow, Mrs. Roscoe Dare. Her
husband had died several years previous, leaving her a small income,
barely sufficient to support herself and her son. It may be added here
that Mr. Dare had been a city fireman before his marriage. This,
perhaps, accounted in a measure for the interest Herbert took in all
alarms and conflagrations.

"It certainly looks like a big fire," thought the boy, as he broke
into a run down the street. He soon caught up with the crowd hastening
to the blaze.

"Hello, Bert!" shouted a lad to him. "Going to help put the fire out?"

"If they need me, Vincent. I see you have your bucket."

"Yep," replied Vincent Templer, one of Bert's chums. "It's dad's. He
belongs to the bucket brigade, but he's away from home, and I took