After Tom had returned and reported to Mr. Miller, he, Chippie, and
Dick were ordered off in quest of good turns. They had been directed
toward a certain street which was on the very edge of the fire; and,
after they had walked ten minutes in this direction, they heard cries
proceeding from a house on the opposite side of the road. They crossed
over and entered the house, which was an old-fashioned single dwelling
turned into a building with a tenement on each floor. Two women--one
elderly and the other comparatively young--were carrying down-stairs,
with some difficulty, a large trunk containing all the household goods
and clothes they had managed to scrape together, while a little girl
was crying passionately at the foot of the stairs:
“The kitty, oh! the kitty! We have left the kitty up-stairs and she
can’t get out!”
The house had caught fire on or near the roof, and the top story was
almost gone. It was a five-story house, and the fourth story was
already burning, with the smoke and flames penetrating into the third;
and out of this third story the two women and the little child had
escaped just about in time, but leaving behind them many things they
would have liked to save. Among these was the cat, of whom they had
not thought until the little girl had begun crying for it at the foot
of the stairs. It was too late to go back in the ordinary way, because
the smoke had gathered so thickly about them that it would have been
almost impossible to get through; but Chippie suddenly remembered the
directions in the Boy Scout Handbook about crawling along the floor,
and so getting enough air to breathe while making one’s way through
a burning house. He turned to one of the women and asked her on what
floor their apartment was, and then, after thinking for a moment, he
said:
“I’ll see whether it’s possible to get through on my hands and knees
and bring the cat out.”
“Right you are, Chip,” said Dick, “and you, Tom, take hold of that
trunk and carry it out into the middle of the street, while I get
around into the back yard and see if there is any way of climbing up to
the windows of the third story.”
Chippie darted up-stairs, and the last they saw of him was the soles
of his boots over the top step of the staircase, as he began pushing
his way first on hands and knees and then crawling on his stomach. The
little girl--who evidently had no anxiety for her own safety--clapped
her hands with delight, while the two women looked on with satisfaction
and relief as Tom took hold of the handle of the trunk and dragged it
out through the door.
In the meantime Dick had run around to the back of the house; and,
after looking carefully for some time along the row of windows on the
third story, recognized something white in the corner, pushing up
against a pane of glass. He looked steadily for about half a minute,
when he saw it move, and made up his mind that it was the cat. Quickly
he measured the distance to the window with his eye, and noted the fact
that a stone wall ran up about four feet, and also that a rain-pipe
ascended from the top of the wall up to and past the window at a
distance of about two feet to the left. If he could only climb up that
rain-pipe and open the window, in case it was unbolted, he could give
the cat a chance to jump upon his shoulder.
But there was something in Dick that did not want to do it; something
that told him it would be a mighty unpleasant thing to slip down and
get killed just then, or even to break an arm or leg. He knew what a
painful thing a broken arm was, for he had been with his aunt once when
she had slipped upon the ice and fallen backward, striking her elbow
on the hard surface. He knew how much she had suffered, even after the
arm was set, before she had regained the use of it. All these thoughts
went through his mind in a flash. Then there came to him the voice of
the little girl crying for her kitty; and then, again, like a quiet
voice rising from somewhere inside of him, the familiar words, “A scout
is brave.” It brought up the scene at prayers on the berth deck of the
_Bright Wing_ and the sound of another voice that was saying: “Without
honor life is not worth living.” And all of a sudden Dick made up his
mind that nothing was of any consequence to him at that moment but to
save the kitten. The next instant he thought of Chippie, crawling on
his way through the suffocating smoke, and ran back to the front door
and up the stairs as far as he could go, calling out to him to come
back, for they could rescue the cat through the window. To his surprise
Chippie was already on his way out, having found it impossible to
force the inner door, which was secured by a latch from within. Dick
hurried him out into the fresh air and around to his station at the
back of the house.
“Here, Chippie, give me a boost up this wall, and I guess I can get up
the waterspout all right.”
It was difficult work, because he could not get his legs fully around
the pipe, for it was too near the wall; but Dick had a pretty good
knee grip from having ridden bareback at home, and he managed to hold
with his knees enough of the distance that he had gained with his
hands to make some headway. He would grasp with both hands and lift
up his knees, and they would slide down again about half-way; but,
nevertheless, he would make on an average about six inches every pull,
and at the end of five minutes’ strenuous work his shoulder was above
the level of the window. Here, luckily, a brick had fallen out of the
wall, making a little place where he could rest one foot; and so he
waited for a minute or two to get his breath before reaching out to
the window. He soon recovered his wind and stretched out his hand; but,
although the window was not bolted, he could not raise it because his
hand was too far from the center. He then determined to break the pane
of glass nearest to him; and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out his
jackknife, and, with two sharp strokes, knocked a hole into the pane
without injuring his hand. But his arm was not long enough to reach
the kitten, and all that he could do was to hold it out within easy
distance for her to step on. Kitty’s fur was bristling with fear, but
it was interesting to note with what daintiness she managed to step
over the broken glass on to the outer sill. Then came a few moments of
apparent reflection while she seemed to be measuring the distance to a
really secure footing on Dick’s shoulder. He encouraged her with his
voice; and, with a single spring, she landed on his shoulder with her
claws piercing through his coat and dangerously near his skin.
[Illustration: She seemed to be measuring the distance to a really
secure footing on Dick’s shoulder. _Page 109._]
Then Dick began his journey downward, which was, of course, easier than
the upward climb. It was a question of putting on the brakes, but did
not take more than forty seconds.
In the meantime, Chippie had got most of the smoke out of his eyes, and
had been watching Dick with breathless interest. Then they thought of
the little girl and the two women and started off in pursuit; and they
soon noticed, at a little distance, a large trunk being carried by a
woman and a boy, with an old woman and a little girl accompanying them.
In another minute Dick was handing the kitty to her small mistress;
and, when the little girl had done all she could to show her delight,
Dick and Chippie took charge of carrying the trunk to relieve Mrs.
Green and Tom, and they all kept together until they reached the Common.
Here they found a large number of people who had taken refuge with
their household goods and chattels; and, when they had discovered a
vacant bench for the two women and the little girl, they sat down on
the ground themselves to hold a council of war. It was now six o’clock
and pretty near supper time. Was there room at the Salem Fraternity to
give shelter to their party for the night, or was there room in any of
the tents pitched on the Common? But Dick cut all these considerations
short by saying:
“The first thing to do is to report to Mr. Miller, tell him all the
facts, and receive our instructions. Tom, you and Chippie stand by the
ladies here in case they should want anything immediately, and I will
go back to the Boys’ Club. You will probably hear from me again in half
or three-quarters of an hour.”
Dick reported the facts as briefly as possible to Mr. Miller, who took
down the names of Mrs. Mitchell and her daughter, Mrs. Green, and
listened to Dick’s description of the place on the Common where they
were sitting under the protection of Tom and Chippie. After consulting
with the superintendent, he told Dick to take supplies for supper, and
to inform the party that they would be welcome in tent Number 6, where
two other families, similarly situated, were to pass the night.
In the meantime, the fourth division from the _Bright Wing_ had
arrived, and had been at work for some time. Sleeping quarters were
provided for the boys in rooms at the top of the Boys’ Club; and, when
it was time for them to turn in, they felt mighty well after all their
hard work, and mighty tired.
For some reason or other, Dick’s thoughts wandered away from the
exciting experiences of the day, and kept returning to that game of
baseball, when his touching second base had been questioned; he did not
feel happy about it, and as he went to sleep, the words, “A scout is
trustworthy”, kept rising up and passing through his mind.
Chippie Smith dreamed of a procession of white and black cats climbing
up the waterspout to the top of a house, crossing the roof, and then
quietly walking down like flies on the other side.