stop, for we kept losing fires that were easily ours, and to save Peter I kept blaming it on the horses, and told the Captain it would be all right when we got the team broken in. Finally there came a day when everything went against us.

"We received an alarm of fire from a station above here that should have been ours without any trouble. You see, sir, there is a great deal of rivalry among the companies about getting to a fire, when an alarm comes in. The next company above here lies about eighteen blocks away; the next one below, about fifteen blocks. We claim everything half the distance either way. If we can hitch up a little quicker than they can, and make better time we can get fires away from either of the other companies, for the first company to arrive 'gets the fire,' that is, gets 'first water' as we call it, and there is a great deal of 'crow ing' done when we beat another company in their own territory, and we feel very cheap when we get beaten ourselves.

66

Well, that's the way it was on the day that Peter got suspended. The alarm came in from a station that was in our half of the territory. A fire that ought to have been ours easily, but the harness got 'jammed,'— would not come down on the horses, then when we started the horses shied, and we came near killing our lieutenant, who was opening the doors. This got the engine crooked, so that we could not get through the doorway, and we had to back her before we could get out, and I tell you, everything went wrong. We only lost a few seconds by these mishaps, but it was enough to lose us the station.

"When we finally got out and were going up the avenue, I tried to make up for lost time by giving the horses all the rein I could, and giving them the whip once in a while, but Peter was so excited by this time at the delay, that he began jumping at the horses' chests and biting at them, and they balked so they would n't go at all. I suppose he meant well enough, and wanted them to go faster, but he only made matters worse; and when I got to the fire there was our rival company at work, line stretched in — and making all kinds of mean remarks as we pulled at a hydrant. Even the Chief was there, and he gave our Captain an

awful lecture - wanted to know if we were all asleep down at our quarters'; and ‘if we thought we were going to a funeral, that we took so much time!' This almost broke the old man's heart, and I tell you I never felt so cheap in all my life as I did when I found how late we were.

"When we got back to quarters again we all got a lecture from the Captain, and then he took me aside and said:

"Joe, I don't like to do it, but we must get rid of Peter. He's bothering the horses a good deal, and I cannot take any more chances like that to-day. If I lose any more fires, you know what will happen.' And he looked at me hard, and I nodded my head; for I knew that meant a transfer for him to another company. Then he went on to say: 'We must give him to some nice fellow-some one who will take good care of him—and it must be some one who lives at a distance from here. You know, if we give him to any one in the neighborhood he'll be back in fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, he is not to turn out with us any more. So tie him up until you find some one to take him.' And so Peter was suspended from active duty.

"It happened that I knew the very person to turn him over to. There was a baker who delivered bread to some of the houses around here, and whose shop was quite a way from here,― about thirty or forty blocks,— and in a street we were not apt to go through. He had taken a great liking to Peter, and had offered to buy him several times, and, of course, we had always refused. Peter had also come to like the baker very much, for he brought Peter, every once in a while, an odd kind of bread that Peter was very fond of. So that night, at my supper-hour, I took Peter down to his bake-shop, and transferred the smartest dog in the fire department from an engine-house to a bakery—a big come-down, I tell you.

"At first we missed him a good deal; but in a large fire department you get so used to changes and transfers from one company to another that in time you get so you don't miss anything or anybody. So it was with Peter; and though we all liked him, we knew he was with some one who would take good care of him. I went down to see him whenever I had a chance,

and found he was getting along nicely, although I could see he was broken in spirit; and no wonder. Think of it! After the excitement of life in a fire-engine-house, with the gongs a-hitting, the horses a-prancing, and the men a-shouting, to have to knuckle down to life in a dry, old bakery, with nothing but a lazy Dutchman and a lot of crullers and cream-puffs for company, is enough to break any one's spirit; and I felt sorry for Peter.

"We had almost forgotten about Peter, and got used to not having him around, when one day a 'third alarm' came in that took us out; and in getting to the station I had to drive through the street the baker's place was on. I never thought of it myself, but, on my word, Peter had n't forgotten us; and when we made our appearance he showed up pretty quick. The baker told me all about it afterward, and this was the way it happened: Peter was lying asleep beside the stove in the center of the bake-shop, when all of a sudden he pricked up one ear, and then jumped on his feet and gave a bark. The baker was making out some bills behind the counter, and thought nothing of it until the next moment Peter gave one jump, and was in the show-window among the pies and cakes and such like. The baker hollered to him to get out; but Peter began to claw at the window, and bark and howl. You see he could hear our whistle and bell and had recognized us. Then the baker made up his mind that the dog had gone mad, and got frightened and got up on a chair, and began to holler himself; and what with the baker and Peter, there was a high old time in that bake-shop for a while. Every time Peter gave a kick he knocked a pie or a plate full of cakes out of the window until he had it clear of everything. Then we hove in sight; and through the side of the show-window he saw us and recognized me in the seat, and that settled it—no bake-shop would hold him then. He jumped back in the store, braced himself plumb in front of the pane of glass in the door, and when we were just about opposite he gave one last howl, and crash! out he came through glass and all!

"I heard the racket, and turned my head just in time to see him come flying out. I understood it all in a moment, and expected to

see him roll over dead in the gutter; but not much! He came through so quick he scarcely got a scratch; and away he went, down the street ahead of us, barking at every one, and clearing the way just as he used to, and running around in a circle and jumping high in the air and cutting up gymnastics—and happy?— well, I just guess he was happy! Even the Captain heard him in all the racket behind the engine, and let up on the whistle long enough to holler ahead to me to look out and not run over him; but there was small fear of that, for he beat us by half a block all the fire.

way to the

stretched in and which means we

"When we got there we stood fast,' as we call it, stretched in the hose, and got ready to go to work when so ordered; but they did n't need us, for the fire was pretty well out then, and the third alarm had only been sent out as a sort of precaution; so in a few moments the Chief ordered us back to quarters.

"When we were 'picking up,' or putting the hose back in the wagon, Peter was around among us like old times, and every one of the 'gang' had a kind word for him. He was cut a bit about the back with glass, so the Captain says: 'Throw him in the wagon, boys, and we 'll take him back to the house, and mend him up. I'll put him on probation; and if he acts right he can stay with us as long as he wants.' And then he adds: 'But you fellows will have to chip in and pay for that pane of glass.' And we all laughed; for we were willing to pay for a whole show-window to get Peter back again.

"Well, I guess I've tired you almost out, telling you about Peter's trials and troubles; but you see, sir, we are all so fond of him we never get tired talking about him to any one who cares to hear. Now he 's settled down and come to be a regular fixture— no more pranks or tricks — steady as an old-timer. He got all over bothering the horses; never did so after we got him back; and anyway, he does n't get much chance now. We've got one of the quickest teams in the business, and they can race a mile with that old five tons of machinery behind as fast as any other team in the department; and Peter has all he can do to keep from getting run over; so he gives them a wide

to a fire he would go

away around the block

to dodge it. Why, say I think -"

But I never heard what Joe thought, for at that instant a gong began to ring, a dozen men seemed to drop from the very sky,-horses rushed past me, there was a shout here and there, and a voice yelled: "632. Seventy-fourth street and

'EVERY TIME PETER GAVE A KICK, HE KNOCKED A PIE OR A PLATE FULL OF CAKES OUT OF THE WINDOW."

berth. When we catch a fire in a butcher-shop he takes full charge, and we always turn it right over to him. He's very busy then. But when we strike a fire in a bakery- not much! You could n't get him to go near it for love or money. He always gets right up in the hose-wagon, on the driver's seat, and won't budge for any one; and if you go near him, after the fire is out, and make believe you 're going to grab him and carry him in the bakery, maybe he won't growl and show his teeth!-well, I just guess! He is n't going to take any more chances of getting shut up with crullers and cakes for company.

"Smart? Well, I should say so-why, when Dauchey's wagon drives up now (that's the baker who had him for a while) and Peter sees it, he has important business down in the cellar, and nothing can get him out of there except an alarm of fire. He knows that wagon well. I do believe if he was to meet it on the way

Eighth Avenue," the big doors opened, and before I could recover my senses the engine

rolled by me with Peter's historian in the seat and two figures clinging on behind. The engine left a streak of steam and a strong smell of burning oil as it rolled out, and I could see one of the figures dash a great burning mass into the furnace. The next instant a wagon full of partly dressed men dashed by me, and I was alone in the big house, the gong beating away with a peculiar jerking "bang, bang," and a thin stream of steam rising from the steam-pipe in the floor, over which the "five tons of machinery" had stood a quarter of a minute before.

A hat and coat and a halter-strap, thrown here and there on the floor, were all the evidence left of the fifteen or sixteen living, breath

ing creatures-men and horses-that had stood around me a few seconds before. The change had come so quickly I could scarcely realize it, and as I stepped outside, while a kindly neighbor closed the massive doors, I unconsciously looked about me for my friend and for Peter. But they were gone- - had vanished from the street as quickly as they had from the house; and all that remained was a thin haze of smoke that filled the air with an odd, pungent smell. In the distance I could hear the clang of a bell, the shrieks of a whistle gradually dying away, and above all the shrill barks of a dog - cries so sharp and penetrating that I shall never forget them. That was Peter Spots, fireman, on duty.