But at the opposite side of the square they were halted by a
sudden commotion which drove all thoughts of food out of their
minds. From a building across the street issued a bugle-call, upon
which an indescribable confusion broke forth. Men began running to
and fro; a voice in authority shouted orders, each of which was
the signal for another bugle-call. Through the wide-open doors the
Panamanians could be seen, scurrying around a hose-cart,
apparently in search of clothes; some were struggling into red
shirts, others were stamping their feet into short boots or
girding themselves with wide canvas belts. Meanwhile, the chief
issued more orders and the bugle continued to blow.
"Oh, look, boss!" Allan cried, quickly. "There must be a
'flagration."
"It's a Spiggoty hose company, as I live. Come on!"
Already a glare could be seen above the crowded portion of the
city, and the two set off in that direction at a run, leaving the
bugle sounding in the rear and the gallant firemen still wrestling
with their uniforms. They had nearly reached the fire when around
a corner back of them, with frightful speed and clangor, came a
modern automobile fire-truck, clinging to which was a swarm of
little brown men in red shirts and helmets.
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