"Where did you put it?" questioned Roger, quickly.
"Over there, in a corner of the fence. I didn't want to take any chances, otherwise I might have taken it to the barn."
"Better leave it outside, where it can't do any damage," said Dave.
While talking, the three boys had been running back to the garage. There they found their chums and the men at work, including Senator Morr, all hauling the burning brushwood away and pouring water from a small hose on the flames. The most of the fire was out, so they found little to do. Only one corner of the garage had been touched, and for this the senator was thankful.
"But it was careless of you, James, to put that brushwood there, so close to the building," he said to the garnder, "Don't do it again."
"If you please, sir, I didn't put the brushwood as close as that," replied the gardener, stoutly. "Somebody else did that."
"What!" cried the senator, in surprise.
"I said I didn't put the brushwood so close to the garage, sir," repeated the gardener. "I put it right there," and he pointed to a spot about fifteen feet from the rear wall of the building. "I was going to burn it up first thing in the morning,—that is if the young gentlemen didn't want the stuff for a bonfire at night."
