Fredericton, N. B.

The silence that hovers over Fredericton is shattered by a noisy blat- the warning note of the fire signal. The skeleton crew at the fire station springs into action. One man rushes to the ticker spelling out the fire's location. Driver "Hood" O'Neill pulls a ring in the floor just in front of Fredericton's horse-drawn fire truck. Two little doors in the wall at the rear of the truck fly open and out dash Bill and Doll, two valiant four-footed firemen. Ears back and at the gallop they race forward. With braced legs they stop just at the right spot. The harness drops to their shiny backs. The hinge collars spring together with a click. The reins are snapped to the bits and they are ready to go-all in r few seconds.

The station doors fly open and out races the long hook and ladder-drawn by the last of Canada's fire horses. Just ahead of them roars the power motor of the pump truck, ominous threat of the demand for speed and efficiency in modern fire-fighting.

Such a scene as this will soon be enacted for the last time, for the old horse-drawn hook and ladder is to be replaced by modern motor-driven equipment. The day the announcement of the coming change was made we went down to the station to talk things over with "Hood" O'Neill driver of these famous horses. We found him standing talking to Bill and stroking his snowy nose.

"They had to do it" he said "Hauling that heavy truck on some of the longer runs is too much to ask of any horse; but I hate to see them go. When an alarm comes in what does every one run to the corner for? To see the truck? No! They see lots of them and a red one isn't much different from a green one or a black one, even if it is the fire truck. It's to see the horses race by that makes them come running.

Passion for Buttons: Visitors to the station can't resist the beauty of the two well-groomed horses. Bill, with a coat as white as the driven snow and Doll clothed in a silky sorrel, would draw the attention of even a non-lover of horses. Naturally you want to pet them and the first thing their driver will tell you is to "look out" for your buttons. For Bill has an insatiable appeal for the shiny metal discs and enjoys snapping them off, sometimes along with a piece of cloth.

"The funny part of it is", O'Neill claims, "He knows the difference between buttons. Mine are nickel and the chief's are gold-plated and if we are standing together Bill will grab for one of the Chief's every time.

O'Neill flashed a smile and involuntarily toyed with the buttons on his coat, "He's a wise one and knows enough to take the best. He chews them up and eats them and seems to enjoy them. They don't seem to do him any harm," He said with a chuckle " or he'd have been dead long ago because I'm sure he's eaten hundreds of them.