Mr. Haskill, in accents of horror. "Did you want the devourin' element to consume that buildin'?"
"I did," replied the theatrical man.
"Well—I vum!" declared the volunteer chief. "Boys, we made a mistake."
"The next time I'll tell the inhabitants here what my plans are," went on Mr. Ringold, grimly. "I told you I wanted it to burn."
"I know you did," admitted the chief; "but I thought you was so excited you didn't know what you was sayin'."
"So did I," admitted several of the volunteer fire-fighters. "It's too bad!"
"Well, you meant all right, anyhow," went on Mr. Ringold, with cheerful philosophy; "and I'll make the department a donation. But next time, please don't interfere. I'll set another shack on fire as soon as I can arrange to buy one," he said to his company. "Meanwhile we'll go on with another drama. Save whatever you can of the films," he added to Blake and Joe. "Up to the time the firemen broke in they'll be all right. Next time I'll be more explicit."
"I knew something would happen," declared C. C., gloomily, as he tried to wring some of the water from his clothes. "I didn't burn, but I nearly drowned."
There was nothing to do but return to their
