Every one was in good humour; it was an event, a fete for the entire neighbourhood.
Vandover and his party came at last to the first engines violently pumping and coughing, the huge gray horses standing near by, already unhitched and blanketed, indifferently feeding in their nosebags.

Some of the crowd preferred to watch the engines rather than the fire, and there were even some who were coming away from it, exclaiming "false alarm" or "all out now." The party had come up quite close; they could smell the burning wood and could see the roofs of the nearer houses beginning to stand out sharp and black against the red glow beyond.

It was a barn behind a huge frame house that was afire, the dry hay burning like powder, and by the time they reached it the flames were already dwindling.

The hose was lying like a python all about the streets, while upon the neighbouring roofs were groups of firemen with helmets and axes; some were shouting into the street below, and others were holding the spouting nozzles of the hose.

"Ah," exclaimed an old man, standing near to Ida and Vandover, "ah, _I_ was here when it first broke out; you ought to have seen the flames then! Look, there's a tree catching!" The crowd became denser; policemen pushed it back and stretched a rope across the street.