In spite of their efforts the fire seemed to be gaining.

"See if they can't give us a bit more water!" cried Charlie.

Bert leaned out of a window, and whistled a signal that had been
agreed upon, whenever more pressure was needed. The boys at the
handles, who had lagged a bit, increased their strokes, and more water
was available. A few seconds later Vincent, who had turned his
supervision of the bucket corps over to John Boll, came into the
smoke-filled hall.

"Can I help you, Bert?" he asked.

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Mrs. Blarcum, the aged housekeeper, as she stood
some distance back, out of the smoke. "There are some valuable
paintings in that room, and they ought to be saved. Can you boys get
them out?" and she pointed to the door of an apartment just back of
where the two lads, with the hose nozzles, stood.

"Sure we will!" replied Vincent. "Come on, Bert. That will be easier
than saving horses."

The flames seemed to be eating back, in spite of the efforts of the
young firemen, and the aid given by the bucket brigade, which last was
not much. They had run up ladders on the outside of the house, near
where the flames were, and were throwing water on in that way.

"Why, the door's locked!" exclaimed Vincent, as he tried the knob.
"Where's the key?"