Little Firefighter Heroes

The red fire station smells of soap and warm coffee. Ben slips into the little red jacket, button by button, and puts on the shiny helmet. It sits a bit crooked – but just right. “I'm coming!” calls Ben into the empty hall, and the walls send back the echo.

The red fire station smells of soap and warm coffee. Ben slips into the little red jacket, button by button, and puts on the shiny helmet. It sits a bit crooked – but just right. “I'm coming!” calls Ben into the empty hall, and the walls send back the echo.

At the breakfast table Ben bites into the bread and coughs – splat! – a big drop of milk lands on the helmet. The other firefighters giggle, and Ben giggles loudest of all. “I'm coming!” calls Ben again, wiping the helmet clean and holding it up like a trophy. The laughter rings through the whole station.

At the breakfast table Ben bites into the bread and coughs – splat! – a big drop of milk lands on the helmet. The other firefighters giggle, and Ben giggles loudest of all. “I'm coming!” calls Ben again, wiping the helmet clean and holding it up like a trophy. The laughter rings through the whole station.

Then the telephone rings. Shrill! Ben listens. An excited voice squeaks: “In the market square, up in the big chestnut tree – there's a little kitten up there! It can't get down!” Ben grabs the helmet, which still smells a bit of milk, and runs for the door.

Then the telephone rings. Shrill! Ben listens. An excited voice squeaks: “In the market square, up in the big chestnut tree – there's a little kitten up there! It can't get down!” Ben grabs the helmet, which still smells a bit of milk, and runs for the door.

The red fire engine races through the cobbled lanes, nee-naw! Ben sits right up front and looks out of the window: bakery, fountain, flower tubs – and then the sunny market square. And there, high above everyone's heads, comes the sound: a thin, complaining miaow.

The red fire engine races through the cobbled lanes, nee-naw! Ben sits right up front and looks out of the window: bakery, fountain, flower tubs – and then the sunny market square. And there, high above everyone's heads, comes the sound: a thin, complaining miaow.

The old chestnut tree is enormous. Right at the top, on a branch as thin as a finger, the cat crouches and looks down with big round eyes. “Miaow!” it calls – and there is no doubt about it: that miaow is meant for Ben. Ben swallows once and steps forward.

The old chestnut tree is enormous. Right at the top, on a branch as thin as a finger, the cat crouches and looks down with big round eyes. “Miaow!” it calls – and there is no doubt about it: that miaow is meant for Ben. Ben swallows once and steps forward.

The heavy ladder will not move. Ben pulls, and pushes, and tries the catch – creak! – nothing. The helmet slides down over one eyebrow. Up in the tree the kitten squeaks pitifully, and Ben pulls harder than ever. What now? Slowly, Ben looks up into the branches, and the kitten looks back.

The heavy ladder will not move. Ben pulls, and pushes, and tries the catch – creak! – nothing. The helmet slides down over one eyebrow. Up in the tree the kitten squeaks pitifully, and Ben pulls harder than ever. What now? Slowly, Ben looks up into the branches, and the kitten looks back.

Then Ben sees it: the kitten stretches out one small paw and nudges a dry twig – click! – the twig falls right onto the jammed catch and knocks it loose. The ladder slides out. “I'm coming, kitten!” calls Ben, and climbs up rung by rung, towards those round eyes.

Then Ben sees it: the kitten stretches out one small paw and nudges a dry twig – click! – the twig falls right onto the jammed catch and knocks it loose. The ladder slides out. “I'm coming, kitten!” calls Ben, and climbs up rung by rung, towards those round eyes.

Right at the top, where the wind whispers in the leaves, Ben holds out a hand. The cat sniffs it once – warm little paws, trembling fur – and then presses close against the red jacket. “I've got you,” whispers Ben. The cat purrs, loud and round, right where the heart is.

Right at the top, where the wind whispers in the leaves, Ben holds out a hand. The cat sniffs it once – warm little paws, trembling fur – and then presses close against the red jacket. “I've got you,” whispers Ben. The cat purrs, loud and round, right where the heart is.

Down in the market square everyone cheers, hooray! Ben climbs down rung by rung, the little kitten safe under one arm. The moment Ben touches the ground, the kitten rubs its head on one boot – once, twice, three times. Ben kneels down, and the kitten bumps its nose against Ben's nose. The kitten looks as if it is smiling.

Down in the market square everyone cheers, hooray! Ben climbs down rung by rung, the little kitten safe under one arm. The moment Ben touches the ground, the kitten rubs its head on one boot – once, twice, three times. Ben kneels down, and the kitten bumps its nose against Ben's nose. The kitten looks as if it is smiling.

In the evening Ben settles on the sofa, the fire helmet glowing gold in the lamplight, and a small, purring kitten curls up on Ben's tummy. “I'm coming,” murmurs Ben one more time – and the kitten blinks once, slowly, the way kittens do when they mean: I know.

In the evening Ben settles on the sofa, the fire helmet glowing gold in the lamplight, and a small, purring kitten curls up on Ben's tummy. “I'm coming,” murmurs Ben one more time – and the kitten blinks once, slowly, the way kittens do when they mean: I know.