FIRE!
Lemuel Fogg gave a violent start as he received the parcel from
Ralph's hand. His face fell and the color deserted it. The package
unrolled in his grasp, and he let it drop to the ground. Two square
sheets of green colored mica rolled out from the bundle.
"Fairbanks!" spoke the fireman hoarsely, his lips quivering--"you
know?"
"I surmise a great deal," replied Ralph promptly, "and I want to say
nothing more about it."
"But--"
"I have figured it all out. Adams, the station man at Plympton, has a
family. You are going to turn over a leaf, I have decided to take all
the blame for the collision on the siding. I shall see the master
mechanic within an hour and settle everything. I am going to resign my
position with the Great Northern road."
The fireman's jaws dropped at this amazing declaration of the young
railroader. It seemed as if for a moment he was fairly petrified at
the unexpected disclosure of the noble self-sacrifice involved. He did
not have to explain what those two sheets of green mica
signified--Ralph knew too well. Inspired by jealousy, Lemuel Fogg had
slipped them over the white signal lights of No. 999 as the locomotive
approached Plympton, getting the siding semaphore, and removing them
before the smash-up had come about.
"Never!" shouted Fogg suddenly. "Let me tell you, Fairbanks--"
Before the speaker could finish the sentence Ralph seized his arm with
the startling words:
"Mr. Fogg, look--fire!"
Facing about, Lemuel Fogg uttered a frightful cry as he discerned what
had just attracted the notice of the young engineer. The Fogg house
was in flames.
When Ralph had first noticed the fiercely-burning heap of rubbish on
the Fogg premises, he had observed that it was dangerously near to the
house. It had ignited the dry light timber of the dwelling, the whole
rear part of which was now a mass of smoke and flames.
"My wife--my helpless wife and the little child!" burst from the lips
of the frantic fireman in a shrill, ringing scream.
Ralph joined him as he ran down the alley on a mad run. The great
sweat stood out on the bloodless face of the agonized husband and
father in knobs, his eyes wore a frenzied expression of suspense and
alarm.
"Save them! save them!" he shouted, as Ralph kept pace with him.
"Don't get excited, Mr. Fogg," spoke Ralph reassuringly. "We shall be
in time."
"But she cannot move--she is in the bedroom directly over the kitchen.
Oh, this is a judgment for all my wickedness!"
"Be a man," encouraged Ralph. "Here we are--let me help you."
"Up the back stairs!" cried Fogg. "They are nearest to her."
"No, no--you can never get up them," declared Ralph.
The side door of the house was open, showing a pair of stairs, but
they were all ablaze. Smoke and sparks poured up this natural funnel
fiercely. Ralph caught at the arm of his companion and tried to detain
him, but Fogg broke away from his grasp.
Ralph saw him disappear beyond the blazing barrier. He was about to
run around to the front of the house, when he heard a hoarse cry.
Driven back by the overpowering smoke, Fogg had stumbled. He fell
headlong down a half a dozen steps, his head struck the lower
platform, and he rolled out upon the gravel walk, stunned.
Ralph quickly dragged the man out of the range of the fire and upon
the grass. He tried to arouse Fogg, but was unsuccessful. There was no
time to lose. Seizing a half-filled bucket standing by the well near
by, Ralph deluged the head of the insensible fireman with its
contents. It did not revive him. Ralph sped to the front of the house,
ran up on the stoop and jerked at the knob of the front screen door.
It was locked, but Ralph tore it open in an instant. A woman's frantic
screams echoed as the young railroader dashed into the house. He was
quickly up the front stairs. At the top landing he paused momentarily,
unable to look about him clearly because of the dense smoke that
permeated the place.
Those frenzied screams again ringing out guided him down a narrow
hallway to the rear upper bedroom. The furniture in it was just
commencing to take fire. On the floor was the fireman's wife, a tiny
babe held in one arm, while with the other she was trying
unsuccessfully to pull herself out of range of the fire.
"Save me! save me!" she shrieked, as Ralph's form was vaguely outlined
to her vision.
"Do not be alarmed, Mrs. Fogg," spoke Ralph quickly--"there's no
danger."
He ran to the bed, speedily pulled off a blanket lying there, and
wrapped it about the woman.
"Hold the child closely," he directed, and bodily lifted mother and
babe in his strong, sinewy arms. The young railroader staggered under
his great burden as he made for the hallway, but never was he so glad
of his early athletic training as at this critical moment in his
life.
It was a strenuous and perilous task getting down the front stairs
with his load, but Ralph managed it. He carried mother and child clear
out into the garden, placed them carefully on a rustic bench there,
and then ran towards the well.
By this time people had come to the scene of the fire. There were two
buckets at the well. A neighbor and the young railroader soon formed a
limited bucket brigade, but it was slow work hauling up the water, and
the flames had soon gained a headway that made their efforts to quench
them useless.
Ralph organized the excited onlookers to some system in removing what
could be saved from the burning house. In the meantime he had directed
a boy to hasten to the nearest telephone and call out the fire
department. Soon the clanging bell of the hose cart echoed in the near
distance. The rear part of the house had been pretty well burned down
by this time, and the front of the building began to blaze.
Ralph got a light wagon from the barn of a neighbor. A comfortable
couch was made of pillows and blankets, and Mrs. Fogg and her child
were placed on this. Ralph found no difficulty in enlisting volunteers
to haul the wagon to his home, where his mother soon had the poor lady
and her babe in a condition of safety and comfort. As Ralph returned
to the dismantled and still smoking Fogg home he met a neighbor.
"Oh, Fairbanks," spoke this person, "you're in great demand up at the
Foggs."
"How is that?"
"Fogg has come to. They told him about your saving his wife and child.
He cried like a baby at first. Then he insisted on finding you. He's
blessing you for your noble heroism, I tell you."
"I don't know about the noble heroism," returned Ralph with a smile.
"Go back, will you, and tell him I'll see him in about an hour. Tell
him to come down to our house at once. It's all arranged there to make
him feel at home until he can make other arrangements."
"You're a mighty good fellow, Fairbanks" declared the man
enthusiastically, "and everybody knows it!"
"Thank you," returned Ralph, and proceeded on his way. As he casually
looked at his watch the young railroader quickened his steps with the
half-murmured words:
"And now for a tussle with the master mechanic."