A RESCUE
“Can you see him?”
The boy had dropped his extinguisher and was peering into the room, his
hand clutching Dan’s arm frantically.
“He’s there in the corner by the table, but he won’t come,” answered
Dan with something very much like a sob.
“_Jack! Jack!_” cried the boy. “_Come here, sir! Good dog! Come here!_”
But there was no answer.
“He will be burned to death!” shouted the boy in Dan’s ear. “I must get
him out!”
“You can’t,” answered Dan miserably. “You’ll be burned yourself if you
try it.” The heat and smoke were driving them further and further from
the door.
“But he’s my dog,” cried the boy, turning a white, scared face to Dan,
“and I told him I’d rescue him!”
“Well, you can’t,” answered Dan, angrily, half crying. “You had no
business shutting him in there! You ought to be burned up yourself!
You--you--”
But no one was listening to him, for the boy had suddenly darted
through the doorway and was already lost to sight in the dense smoke.
“Come back! You mustn’t do that!” cried Dan. “You’ll be burned up! Do
you hear?”
He ran to the door and looked in, forgetful of the fierce heat that
assailed him. He heard a sound as from an overturning chair or table
and, he thought, a faint cry. But he could not be certain, for the
flames were roaring across the ceiling and the little room was filled
with a lurid gloom that baffled sight. Dan reeled away from the door,
his eyes smarting and streaming, his lungs gasping for air. For an
instant longer he waited, watched, his heart thumping chokingly. He was
dreadfully frightened. He wanted to turn and run, run until the sight
and sound of the burning building were miles behind him. But he mustn’t
do that, he mustn’t even seek help at the house or the stables! He was
the only one who could help, and he knew it; knew that unless the boy
came out in the next instant he must go in there for him! His knees
weakened at the thought of it, and it seemed that to play the part of
the coward was the most desirable thing in the world! It wasn’t his
affair; the boy was no friend of his! Why should he risk his life?
These thoughts came and went in a moment, while his eyes regained
their sight and his breath came back to him. Then he was tying his
handkerchief across his white face with fingers that shook so that
they could scarcely make the knots. He looked toward the house in the
forlorn hope that help was in sight. But the stretch of shrubbery and
lawn was empty of life. He turned his face toward the doorway, took a
long breath and dashed forward.
The next instant he was on his knees at the end of the room. His head
was already reeling, but he opened his eyes and, in the brief moment
that he could see, the sprawled shape of the boy met his sight. He had
only to stretch out his hand to reach him. But now, somehow, the idea
of rescue was slipping from his mind. It was easier to lie there, face
down upon the floor and keep his eyes tight closed. The heat beat down
upon him and the smoke was filling his lungs, but it didn’t seem to
matter any more. And then there was a sharp twinge of pain in his right
arm that brought his senses rushing back to him. His sleeve was on
fire. He beat out the smoldering flames, got a firm hold on the boy’s
coat collar and, squirming and tugging, made for the gray oblong
that was the doorway.
The place was a veritable furnace, and although there was but a few
feet to traverse, it seemed that he must certainly fail. For the boy
seemed to weigh tons, and the heat was like a living monster that
sought to beat him to the ground with its fiery breath. More than once
the thought of loosing his hold on that hateful thing behind him that
was keeping him back assailed him, but each time he set his teeth and
groped blindly on. And then a breath of fresher air met him, and he
staggered to his feet, stumbled blindly through the doorway and finally
fell flat upon his face on the grass.
[Illustration: “He staggered to his feet, stumbled blindly through the
doorway.”]
For several minutes he lay there unmoving, only dimly conscious. Then
he came to himself with the knowledge of an aching, throbbing head
and a scorched throat and threw out his arms and rolled over on his
back with his face to the blessed blue sky and the soft breeze. He
took a deep breath that pained him badly, and then another, and found
that each succeeding breath hurt less than the one before. And full
consciousness came back to him in a sudden rush of thankfulness. A
groan from beside him recalled the boy to his mind and he sat up,
swayed dizzily and blinked his eyes. Beside him lay the boy, his
clothes burned in places and his hair singed. And beside the boy lay
the dog, a red setter, the boy’s fingers clutched tightly about his
collar. Dan looked for a moment from boy to dog. The boy stirred and
moaned. The dog’s eyes were half closed, but his sides rose and fell
with long, shivering breaths. They were both alive, Dan told himself
contentedly. Then he lay down again and went into a dead faint.
When he regained his senses there were men about and a troubled,
anxious face was bending above him. He looked up at it a moment, and
then a smile of recognition curved his lips.
“I remember,” he murmured. “It was on the train.”
“How are you feeling?” asked a voice.
Dan considered a moment, opening his eyes widely and looking about.
Then--
“Pretty good now, thanks,” he answered cheerfully. He tried to raise
himself, but the man put a hand against his breast and held him down.
“Stay where you are, please, and we’ll have you in the house in a
moment.”
“How’s--he?” asked Dan. “And the dog?”
“No worse than you, I hope,” answered the man with a break in his
voice. “Here comes the car.”
Dan turned his head at the sound of the soft chugging of an automobile
and saw the big chocolate brown car which he remembered coming across
the grass.
“Are you his father?” asked Dan.
“Yes,” replied the man. “I’m Mr. Pennimore.”
Dan digested this a moment. Then he shook his head and remarked more
frankly than politely:
“He’s a silly kid. He might have been burned up. I told him to keep
out, but he wouldn’t do it.”
“After you feel better you may tell me what happened,” was the answer.
“Here, Porter, lift him in. Tell Nagle to carry the dog up to the
kennels and look after him.”
“How about the play-house, sir?”
“Let it burn,” was the answer.
Strong hands bore Dan to the car and he found himself sitting in a
corner of the tonneau on the softest leather cushions he had ever felt.
Then the boy was put in beside him and Mr. Pennimore sat beyond. The
boy seemed half-dazed and looked at Dan as though he wondered who he
was and what he was doing there. Dan felt rather weak and funny, but
for all that he watched the two grooms crowd into the front seat with
the chauffeur and watched the latter as he pushed a lever slowly
forward and turned the big brass wheel. It was Dan’s first ride in an
automobile and he felt that it was something of an event; he wished
that he felt in better condition to enjoy it and wished that it was
going to be longer. Mr. Pennimore was very silent as they went slowly
across the grass, dropped with a lurch into the curving road and then
whizzed toward the big stone house. That ride was over all too soon
for Dan. Almost before he knew it he was lying on a wonderful brass
bed in a room that was all pink roses, and a doctor, who had suddenly
and marvelously appeared from nowhere, was unceremoniously taking his
clothes off of him and feeling his pulse all at the same time.
“There’s nothing the matter with me, sir,” said Dan, but his voice
didn’t sound just right to him, and he decided he’d shut up for awhile.
“Supposing you let me find that out for myself,” answered the doctor
cheerfully. Well, that sounded sensible, and so Dan laid still and let
the doctor do whatever he pleased. It seemed to please the doctor to
bandage his left arm and his leg just above the ankle, to look very
attentively at his eyes and finally to make him swallow two spoonfuls
of something that tasted the way liniment smelled. Dan wondered
amusedly whether the doctor was making a mistake and dosing him with
what ought to go outside.
“That will do for you,” said the doctor presently, drawing the clothes
up under Dan’s chin. “You go to sleep for awhile and when you wake up
you’ll feel as fine as ever. Better let fires alone for awhile, though.
They’re rather dangerous.”
He nodded and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Dan
lay for awhile and looked at the roses. The house was very quiet.
The flutter of a shade at an open window and the faint break of the
waves on the beach were the only sounds that reached him. Then his
thoughts went back to the afternoon’s adventure and he wondered how
the Pennimore boy was. Then he wondered how Jack was. Then he wondered
whether they had saved the fire extinguishers. He hoped so for he
wanted to see how they worked. Then telling himself that the stuff
the doctor had put on his arm and leg certainly did smart, he dropped
quietly to sleep.