Chapter II: An Invasion of Pigs

There is nothing under the sun capable of exciting a crowd of lively boys as much as a fire. Consequently when the ball players saw the smoke pouring from Bratton’s barn they instantly forgot all about their game, even with the score a tie, two out, Dick to the bat, a runner on third, and but a single hit needed to win for his side.

Helter-skelter they ran toward the scene, most of them shouting “Fire!” as they went, and thus increasing the already growing confusion. The clang of the suspended locomotive steel rim struck by a hammer added to the din. People came running from every direction toward the Bratton place, about which a crowd had already collected.

Silas Bratton was a character in Cliffwood. He had always been at odds with everybody in the town, and seemed to delight in annoying others. There are just such contrary people in nearly every community.

For one thing the man persisted in keeping a host of small pigs about his place. The authorities made him confine them, but even at that they were a constant source of trouble to the neighbors; which was apparently just what Mr. Bratton wanted. He was always in some sort of lawsuit with people, but, possessing means, he hired the best lawyers, and usually came out of the affairs victorious.

“Wonder how it started?” gasped Leslie, as he ran alongside Dick and Dan.

“Huh!” grunted Dan, always suspicious, “wouldn’t surprise me one little bit if somebody just set it going. You know how they detest Bratton, and lots of people will laugh themselves sick if his barn--yes, and house too--goes up in smoke.”

“Better not say that again, Dan,” cautioned Dick. “It might get you into a peck of trouble if some friend of Bratton’s chanced to hear you.”

The boys soon reached the scene of excitement. The smoke was pouring out of the barn worse than ever. Perhaps it was a case of spontaneous combustion, for oily waste and rags often take fire, especially during the warm summer months. No one seemed to be bothering his head as to what had caused the fire; it was enough for all to see that the tongues of flame had commenced to spit through the billowing smoke, showing that the conflagration was becoming serious.

When eighteen lively boys are suddenly brought upon the scene, something is apt to be doing. Nat and a few of the others began immediately to see a fine chance to have some fun out of the affair.

“Hey! let’s try to throw some water on the fire, fellers!” shouted Nat; but those who knew him best surmised that it was the hope of finding a chance for a prank rather than a desire to assist in saving Mr. Bratton’s property that urged him on.

There was a rush forward, and many of the boys started to scale the fence. One of the gates was thrown open, and immediately several squealing pigs commenced to run down the road.

“Hi! shut that gate again, you fools!” shouted the owner of the premises, who, in his excitement, was running back and forth, starting to do one thing and then changing to another. “D’ye want to let all my valuable pigs break away?”

“Here come the firemen on the run!” a voice was heard to call out, one of the boys perched on top of the high fence being the alert scout to convey the news.

Cliffwood firemen had made a good reputation for themselves in times past. It was a volunteer department, but they owned a good engine, as well as a hose cart and a ladder truck.

Galloping horses brought them quickly to the scene of the fire. When they learned whose barn was in danger of being burned down, some of the members of the department may have felt loath to work as hard as usual, for they detested Mr. Bratton.

The foreman, however, who was the town blacksmith, would not allow any shirking on the part of his followers. So the hose was run out, the engine started up, and it was not long before a stream of water began to fall upon the smouldering hay that had been the main cause of the smoke.

Meanwhile, as seems necessary at all fires in country towns, some of the men began to chop at the sides of the barn, and smash in the windows--“to let the smoke out, and give the men who handled the hose nozzle a chance to play on the seat of the fire,” it was explained. Many who witnessed these energetic labors, however, could give a good guess that there were other things back of the professional instinct.

While all this was going on, more and more of the grunting and squealing pigs managed to get away, despite the apparent frenzied efforts of the fire fighters to prevent their egress. They were darting this way and that in every direction. Some ran between the legs of the spectators, and girls screamed in real or imaginary terror as the agile and alarmed little pigs appeared in their midst.

As the fire was already diminishing in vigor, and gave promise of proving a disappointment so far as spectacular effect went, the boys seemed bent on finding some outlet for their activities in chasing wildly after the noisy little beasts, that usually eluded capture in a remarkable way.

Many were the loud shrieks of laughter that arose when some one plunged forward with outstretched hands, only to clutch thin air as the active pig suddenly doubled, and eluded his grasp.

Dan had taken after an old sow that was giving vent to loud and ominous grunts while running in a zigzag manner among the crowds. He must have tripped at a critical second, for suddenly Dan was seen astraddle of the broad-backed animal, trying to keep from tumbling, and evidently much surprised at finding himself having a ride.

However, Dan soon tumbled off, selecting a soft spot for the feat, and arose to his feet not much hurt by his adventurous ride. Boylike, he immediately decided to stick to it that he had carried the trick through purposely, to show what a fine rough-rider he would make.

About this time Elmer Jones tugged at the sleeve of Dick’s coat.

“Look at Nat and his bunch, every one of ’em trying to corral a squealing porker,” he called out. “I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve? I heard Nat tell Dit Hennesy he wanted every fellow to get a pig apiece.”

“Oh! I shouldn’t be surprised if they expect Bratton’ll be offering a reward for the safe return of his ugly pets; and it’ll be easy money for their crowd,” remarked Leslie; and then burst into a roar of laughter when one of the boys in question stumbled and fell flat, to have a whole drove of the pigs scamper directly over him.

Dick and his chums would only too gladly have assisted in putting the blaze out, because it would have been great fun for them. They had done something of the sort not a great while back, when the house next to that of Mr. Nocker had caught on fire, and precious lives were placed in peril.

In the present instance it happened that there was really little or no chance to play the part of heroes. The gallant fire fighters poured enough water on the already damp hay to smother the last spark, and in order to feel in part repaid for their lively run in the heat of the afternoon were doing more or less smashing around. They felt confident that all damages would be settled by the fire insurance companies with whom so careful a man as Mr. Bratton undoubtedly held policies.

Mr. Bratton, indeed, seemed to be more concerned about the disappearance of some two dozen of his pigs than any damage his barn had sustained. Perhaps this was because the animals were not included in the insurance; or it might be he suspected the fire to have been part of a plot on the part of disputing neighbors to rid themselves of a pest.

“Here, bring those pigs back to this other building! Do you hear me?” he was shouting to some of the people who had managed to secure a few of the alarmed pigs, though it was all they could do to hold them.

They resented the tone of authority conveyed by his manner and words, and on that account two men immediately released their prisoners.

“Take them yourself, Silas Bratton!” called out one of these. “Since when have we been in your employ?”

“Drat the pigs!” said one woman, with an expression of disgust on her face. “When I first heard it was Bratton’s place that had caught fire I began to hope I’d smell roast pork. But it seems the whole nest of ’em must have come through scot-free. They’ll be chasing all over town.”

“Glad of it,” said another neighbor, smiling broadly. “I wish some bad spirit would enter into the drove, just as it did long years ago in Palestine, and cause the beasts to run down into the river to be drowned. It’d be a good riddance of rubbish, say I!”

The excitement was gradually dying out. Some of the escaped pigs had been recovered, but many of them had vanished. Perhaps strays would be picked up here and there around Cliffwood for some time to come, especially if the crusty owner thought fit to offer a reward for their return.

“I guess our game is all knocked to flinders by this riot,” remarked Leslie, as he stood and watched the firemen finish the last stroke of their business by turning the stream of water into a hole that had been cut in the side of the barn.

“Oh! we couldn’t get the boys together again after this!” declared Peg, who was one of the group. “Three of the other side have disappeared--Nat, Dit and Alonzo Crane. And say, let me tell you, every one of them had a pig in his arms the last I saw of them.”

“That’s right,” added Dan; “and running off with the same in the bargain. I wonder what’s in the wind? If they were meaning to camp out soon I’d guess you’d get the smell of roast pork if you happened to stroll near their hideout. But anyway, when it comes to playing all sorts of practical jokes, Nat takes the cake.”

“There’s something up, you can depend on it,” asserted Leslie, firmly. “We know Nat too well to believe he just wanted to save those porkers for Mr. Bratton. Keep your eye on Nat, and you’ll hear something drop before long.”

“Oh! bother Nat anyway,” said Peg; “he’s always doing something to keep himself in the limelight. What interests me more than any of his capers just now is trying to guess where we’ll land about that summer camp we’re thinking of starting next week.”

“Well, we may have some news at the meeting to-night,” explained Dick, “because Dr. Madison promised to run over and see about that Morley Camp Mr. Holwell thought would suit us in every way.”

“I was hugging some hope to my heart we might get a chance to go up to Lake Russabaga,” grumbled Dan. “Somehow I’ve always hankered after that place since the time we ran up there on our wheels and stayed one night, camping under the hemlocks.”

“It is a dandy place, all right,” admitted Dick. “For one, I’d like to spend a week or so up there on Bass Island. But there isn’t much chance of our getting there on this trip, I’m afraid.”

The fire being now a thing of the past, the boys started for home. The last they saw of Mr. Bratton he was counting his pigs, and declaring he would have the law on any one found guilty of trying to harbor one of the escaped animals. More or less sly laughter was being indulged in by the spectators, who seemed rather well pleased at the calamity that had befallen their quarrelsome neighbor.

“You see none of the other nine has showed up to finish the game,” remarked Dick, shortly afterwards, as they neared the ball ground; “so we’ll have to call it a draw. See you this evening at the meeting, fellows. So long!”