Chapter XI: The Result of a Blaze

"That was plucky, Cora."

"What, Ed?"

"You running into Waterbury with a man who might have died in your car."

"Then he would have died in your arms."

"But I thought girls were so queer about things of that sort. When one dies in a house, for instance, a girl never likes the room----"

"But you would have had to keep your arms. Ed, I think the pluck was all on your side. But I do hope Jim has a chance. He seems an awfully frail little fellow."

"Weighs about as much as you do, I should judge. But they say that kind of build is the best for fighting disease--there is not so much blood to take up the poison."

They were riding back to Restover. Ed insisted upon driving the car, although Cora declared that she was not the least tired. The trip to the hospital had been made at a very high rate of speed, as the unconscious man seemed in imminent danger, and Cora's hands now trembled visibly from their work at the wheel of the _Whirlwind_.

"I suppose we will have to live on love tonight," remarked Ed, "for that kitchen is certainly a thing of the past."

"What saved the second floor?"

"The heavy beams and metal ceiling. I guess they have had fires before in that hotel, for the ceiling was practically of iron. I just wonder what the boys are doing about now. I fancy Walter has turned nurse to assist Miss Robbins."

"And Jack has taken up the role of engineer--to be made chief of the fire department. I shouldn't wonder but what they had formally organized by this time."

"He certainly deserves to be chief; he did good work. When a gas tank--a small affair--started to hiss in the servants' dining room, Jack grabbed up a big palm and dumped the contents of the flower pot into the tank. It was a small thing they heated coffee on, and when, the next moment, the tank broke it was surprised to find itself buried under a bed of sand, with flowers on the grave."

Cora laughed heartily at Ed's telling of the incident. Certainly strange things, if not really funny things, always seem to occur during the excitement caused by fire.

"If everything in the kitchen is gone, don't you think we had better bring back some refreshments?" asked Cora. "The folks will all have appetites when they find there is nothing to eat."

"Great idea. Here is a good-looking store. Let's load up."

"But is there no manager at the hotel? Who was or who is boss?"

"Jim. The management of that sort of place goes into the shape of bills and accounts, settled every month. Some New York company owns the place. It was a failure, and they leased it to a local man. That's why there will be no one to look after things now."

"Well, we will buy the food and send our bill in to the company. I guess they will be glad enough to pay it when they hear of the emergency."

"Yes, it would not do for the hotel disaster to get into the New York papers, with a starved-to-death head. Well, here's our store. What shall we buy?"

Cora and Ed left the car and went into the store. They bought all sorts of canned goods, although Cora declared they would have to be eaten raw. Then they bought bacon and eggs. Ed insisted on that, no matter, he said, if they had to come to town again and take back to Restover a gas stove. He insisted that no well-regulated emergency feed ever went without bacon and eggs. Bread and butter they procured for fifty persons. Some cake for the ladies, Ed suggested. Pork and beans, canned, Cora thought might do for breakfast, even if they had to be eaten from the cans. Then the last thought, and by no means the most trifling, was wooden plates and tin cups. The bill footed up to ten dollars, and Ed insisted that the man make out the bill as paid and marked for the Restover Hotel.

A half hour later the _Whirlwind_ drew up to the hostelry.

The rain had ceased, and the hotel patrons were almost all out of doors, so that the motor girls and boys trooped down to meet Ed and Cora.

As was anticipated, hunger prevailed, and when it was found that stores of eatables were in the tonneau of the _Whirlwind_ even the most helpless, nervous ladies at the hotel wanted to help get the refreshments into the house.

"But where can they be cooked?"

"What can we cook on?"

"There is no gas stove!"

"Not even an oil stove!"

"We can't eat bacon raw!"

"The bread is all right, anyway!"

Such was the volley of remarks that came out from the crowd.

"We will manage somehow," said Cora. "Our boys are used to emergency work in the line of eating and fixing meals."

"Seems ter me," whined a wizen old lady, "thet the girls knows somethin' about it, too!"

In the dining room on the second floor were two chandeliers. Under these were, of course, tables, and before the anxious ones had time to settle their fears there stood on these tables Cora, Bess and Belle, and on the other Ed, Jack and Walter. Each of our friends had in his or her hand something that answered to the pan or pot brand of utensil, and in the pan or pot, which was held over the gas, was something that began to "talk-talk" out loud of good things to eat, sizzling and crisping.

It was very funny to see the young folks cooking over the handsome chandeliers, from which, of course, the glass globes had been removed.

"Well, did you ever!" exclaimed more than one.

"Those young folks do beat all! I used to think ma and pa brung us up right, but whoever on earth would have cooked bacon and eggs over a lamp," ejaculated an old man.

"I guess driving them machines makes them smart," said another guest, as she took the pan Cora handed down and gingerly slopped the stuff over on a wooden plate. "I guess it is a good thing to know how to drive an automobile. Makes you right smart! Whew! but that was hot!" and she put the overheated fingers into her mouth.

"Put another dish over it to keep it hot," Cora ordered. "And can't some one set a table? That is not such a difficult thing to do."

"See here!" called out Ed, "this is no pancake party. I am not going to stay up here cooking all night. I am going down to eat. We have enough of tomatoes warmed to fill the wash bowl, and I love canned tomatoes if they are out of a washbowl. We washed the bowl, and sterilized it, and it's as good as a soup tureen."

There stood the white wash basin almost filled with the steaming tomatoes. As Ed said, there could be no objection to the crockery.

Jack had charge of the water for tea. This took a long time to boil, owing to the fact that the kettle was a very much bent-up affair that had been rescued from the ruined kitchen.

Bess was cooking canned peas, while Belle insisted that all she could do was to turn over, with a fork, the things that cooked nicely on Cora's pan.

"Done to a turn!" announced Jack, as he jumped down with his pots. "Now, if you folks need any more you will really have to go into active service."

His initiative was followed by the others, and presently the less timid of the guests had put food into pans and taken up their places on the tables to do their cooking, while it seemed that all at once every one "fell to" and procured something to eat.

"Let there be no unbecoming haste!" remarked Walter gently, but it was a great meal, that.