BARON LUDOLPH LEARNS THE TRUTH
With eyes ablaze with excitement, Dennis plunged into the region just
before the main line of fire, knowing that there the danger would be
greatest. None realized the rapidity of its advance. At the door of
a tenement-house he found a pale, thin, half-clad woman tugging at a
sewing-machine.
"Madam," cried Dennis, "you have no time to waste over that burden if
you wish to escape."
"What is the use of escaping without it?" she answered, sullenly. "It
is the only way I have of making a living."
"Give it to me then, and follow as fast as you can." Shouldering what
meant to the poor creature shelter, clothing, and bread, he led the
way to the southeast, out of the line of fire. It was a long, hard
struggle, but they got through safely.
"How can I ever pay you?" cried the grateful woman.
But he did not stay to answer, and now determined to make his way to
the west and windward of the fire, as he could then judge better of
the chances of its spreading. He thought it safer to go around and back
of the flames, as they now seemed much wider, and nearer the south
branch of the Chicago River.
He found that he could cross the burned district a little to the
southwest, for the small wooden houses were swept so utterly away that
there were no heated, blazing ruins to contend with. He also saw that
he could do better by making quite a wide circuit, as he thus avoided
streets choked by fugitives. Beaching a point near the river on the
west side of the fire, he climbed a high pile of lumber, and then
discovered to his horror that the fire had caught in several places
on the south side, and that the nearest bridges were burning.
To those not familiar with the topography of the city, it should be
stated that it is separated by the Chicago River, a slow, narrow stream,
into three main divisions, known as the south, the north, and the west
side.
By a triumph of engineering, the former mouth of this river at the
lake is now its source, the main stream being turned back upon itself,
and dividing into two branches at a point a little over half a mile
from the lake, one flowing to the southwest into the Illinois, and the
other from the northwest into the main stream.
The south division includes all the territory bounded on the east by the
lake, on the north by the main river and on the west by the south
branch. The north division includes the area bounded on the east by
the lake, on the south by the main river, and on the west by the north
branch, while the west division embraces all that part of the city
west of the two branches. The fire originated in De Koven Street, the
southeastern part of the west side, and it was carried steadily to the
north and east by an increasing gale. The south side, with all its
magnificent buildings, was soon directly in the line of the fire.
When Dennis saw that the flames had crossed the south branch, and were
burning furiously beyond, he knew that the best part of the city was
threatened with destruction. He hastened to the Washington Street
tunnel, where he found a vast throng, carrying all sorts of burdens,
rushing either way. He plunged in with the rest, and soon found himself
hustled hither and thither by a surging mass of humanity. A little
piping voice that seemed under his feet cried: "O mamma! mamma! Where
are you? I'm gettin' lost."
"Here I am, my child," answered a voice some steps in advance and
Dennis saw a lady carrying another child; but the rushing tide would
not let her wait--all, in the place where they were wedged, being
carried right along. Stooping down, he put the little girl on his
shoulder where she could see her mother, and so they pressed on.
Suddenly, in the very midst of the tunnel, the gas ceased, by reason
of the destruction of the works, and utter darkness filled the place.
There was a loud cry of consternation, and then a momentary and dreadful
silence, which would have been the preface of a fatal panic, had not
Dennis cried out, in a ringing voice, "All keep to the right!"
This cry was taken up and repeated on every hand, and side by side,
to right and left, the two living streams of humanity, with steady
tramp! tramp! rushed past each other.
When they emerged into the glare of the south side Dennis gave the
child to its mother and said, "Madam, your only chance is to escape
in that direction," pointing northwest.
He then tried to make his way to the hotel where Professor and Mrs.
Leonard were staying, but it was in the midst of an unapproachable sea
of fire. If they had not escaped some little time before, they had
already perished. He then tried to make his way to the windward toward
his own room. His two thousand dollars and all his possessions were
there, and the instinct of self-preservation caused him to think it
was time to look after his own. But progress was now very difficult.
The streets were choked by drays, carriages, furniture, trunks, and
every degree and condition of humanity. Besides, his steps were often
stayed by thrilling scenes and the need of a helping hand. In order
to make his way faster he took a street nearer the fire, from which
the people had mostly been driven. As he was hurrying along with his
hat drawn over his eyes to avoid the sparks that were driven about
like fiery hail, he suddenly heard a piercing shriek. Looking up he
saw the figure of a woman at the third story window of a fine mansion
that was already burning, though not so rapidly as those in the direct
line of the fire. He with a number of others stopped at the sound.
"Who will volunteer with me to save that woman?" cried he.
"Wal, stranger, you can reckon on this old stager for one," answered
a familiar voice.
Dennis turned and recognized his old friend, the Good Samaritan.
"Why, Cronk," he cried, "don't you know me? Don't you remember the
young man you saved from starving by suggesting the snow-shovel
business?"
"Hello! my young colt. How are you? give us yer hand. But come, don't
let's stop to talk about snow in this hell of a place with that young
filly whinnying up there."
"Right!" cried Dennis. "Let us find a ladder and rope; quick--"
At a paint-shop around the corner a ladder was found that reached to
the second story, and some one procured a rope.
"A thousand dollars," cried another familiar voice, "to the man who
saves that woman!"
Looking round, Dennis saw the burly form of Mr. Brown, the brewer, his
features distorted by agony and fear; then glancing up he discovered
in the red glare upon her face that the woman was no other than his
daughter. She had come to spend the night with a friend, and, being
a sound sleeper, had not escaped with the family.
"Who wants yer thousand dollars?" replied Bill Cronk's gruff voice.
"D'ye s'pose we'd hang out here over the bottomless pit for any such
trifle as that? We want to save the gal."
Before Cronk had ended his characteristic speech, Dennis was half-way
up the ladder. He entered the second story, only to be driven back by
fire and smoke.
"A pole of some kind!" he cried.
The thills of a broken-down buggy supplied this, but the flames had
already reached Miss Brown. Being a girl of a good deal of nerve and
physical courage, however, she tore off her outer clothing with her
own hands. Dennis now passed her the rope on the end of the buggy-thill
and told her to fasten it to something in the room that would support
her weight, and lower herself to the second story. She fastened it,
but did not seem to know how to lower herself. Dennis tried the rope,
found it would sustain his weight; then, bringing into use an art
learned in his college gymnasium, he over-handed rapidly till he stood
at Miss Brown's side. Drawing up the rope he fastened her to it and
lowered her to the ladder, where Bill Cronk caught her, and in a moment
more she was in her father's arms, who at once shielded her from
exposure with his overcoat. Dennis followed the rope down, and had
hardly got away before the building fell in.
"Is not this Mr. Fleet?" asked Miss Brown.
"Yes."
"How can we ever repay you?"
"By learning to respect honest men, even though they are not rich,
Miss Brown."
"Did you know who it was when you saved me?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Fleet, I sincerely ask your pardon."
But before Dennis could reply they were compelled to fly for their
lives.
Mr. Brown shouted as he ran, "Call at the house or place of business
of Thomas Brown, and the money will be ready."
But Thomas Brown would have found it hard work to rake a thousand
dollars out of the ashes of either place the following day. The riches
in which he trusted had taken wings.
Cronk and Dennis kept together for a short distance, and the latter
saw that his friend had been drinking. Their steps led them near a
large liquor-store which a party of men and boys were sacking. One of
these, half intoxicated, handed Bill a bottle of whiskey, but as the
drover was lifting it to his lips Dennis struck it to the ground. Cronk
was in a rage instantly.
"What the ---- did you do that for?" he growled.
"I would do that and more too to save your life. If you get drunk
to-night you are a lost man," answered Dennis, earnestly.
"Who's a-goin' ter get drunk, I'd like ter know? You feel yer oats too
much to-night. No man or horse can kick over the traces with me;" and
he went off in the unreasoning anger of a half-drunken man. But he
carried all his generous impulses with him, for a few minutes after,
seeing a man lying in a most dangerous position, he ran up and shook
him, crying, "I say, stranger, get up, or yer ribs will soon be
roasted."
"Lemme 'lone," was the maudlin answer. "I've had drink 'nuff. 'Tain't
mornin' yet."
"Hi, there!" cried a warning voice, and Cronk started back just in
time to escape a blazing wall that fell across the street. The stupefied
man he had sought to arouse was hopelessly buried. Cronk, having got
out of danger, stood and scratched his head, his favorite way of
assisting reflection.
"That's just what that young critter Fleet meant. What a cussed ole
mule I was to kick up so! Ten chances to one but it will happen to me
afore mornin'. Look here, Bill Cronk, you jist p'int out of this fiery
furnace. You know yer failin', and there's too long and black a score
agin you in t'other world for you to go to-night;" and Bill made a bee
line for the west side.
Struggling off to windward through the choked streets for a little
distance, Dennis ascended the side stairs of a tall building, in order
to get more accurately the bearings of the fire. He now for the first
time realized its magnitude, and was appalled. It appeared as if the
whole south side must go. At certain points the very heavens seemed
on fire. The sparks filled the air like flakes of fiery snow, and great
blazing fragments of roofs, and boards from lumber yards, sailed over
his head, with the ill-omened glare of meteors. The rush and roar of
the wind and flames were like the thunder of Niagara, and to this awful
monotone accompaniment was added a Babel of sounds--shrieks, and shouts
of human voices, the sharp crash of falling buildings, and ever and
anon heavy detonations, as the fire reached explosive material. As he
looked down into the white upturned faces in the thronged streets, it
seemed to him as if the people might be gathering for the last great
day. Above all the uproar, the court-house bell could be heard, with
its heavy, solemn clangor, no longer ringing alarm, but the city's
knell.
But he saw that if he reached his own little room in time to save
anything he must hasten. His course lay near the Art Building, the
place so thronged with associations to him. An irresistible impulse
drew him to it. It was evident that it must soon go, for an immense
building to the southwest, on the same block, was burning, and the
walls were already swaying.
Suddenly a man rushed past him, and Mr. Ludolph put his pass key in
the side door.
"Mr. Ludolph, it is not safe to enter," said Dennis.
"What are you doing here with your ill-omened face?" retorted his old
employer, turning toward him a countenance terrible in its expression.
As we have seen, anything that threatened Mr. Ludolph's interests,
even that which most men bow before, as sickness and disaster, only
awakened his anger; and his face was black with passion and distorted
with rage.
The door yielded, and he passed in.
"Come back, quick, Mr. Ludolph, or you are lost!" cried Dennis at the
door.
"I will get certain papers, though the heavens fall!" yelled back the
infuriated man, with an oath.
Dennis heard an awful rushing sound in the air. He drew his hat over
his face as he ran, crouching. Hot bricks rained around him, but
fortunately he escaped.
When he turned to look, the Art Building was a crushed and blazing
ruin. Sweet girlish faces that had smiled upon him from the walls,
beautiful classical faces that had inspired his artist soul, stern
Roman faces, that had made the past seem real, the human faces of gods
and goddesses that made mythology seem not wholly a myth, and the white
marble faces of the statuary, that ever reminded him of Christine,
were now all blackened and defaced forever. But not of these he thought,
as he shudderingly covered his eyes with his hands to shut out the
vision; but of that terrible face that in the darkness had yelled
defiance to Heaven.