It was a dull evening for Fire Engine Company No. 9, one of those lazy April evenings in Washington when you can smell the park cherry blossoms all over town and a fireman's life is just one repression after another. The men of Number Nine sat in their chairs mooning, or wishing some one knew a funny story newer than the one about red suspenders. Nobody got excited whenDang-galang! an alarm came in.
"Ho hum. Probably just another baby playing with matches," thought the men of Number Nine as they reached for their...
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