Almost immediately after the cries of “fire” the bell at the fire
station pealed out.
Paloma's volunteer fire department turned out quickly, running to the
scene with a hand engine, two hose reels and a ladder truck.
By this time, however, the whole of Paloma appeared to be lighted up
with the brisk blaze. Tongues of flame shot skyward from the burning
hotel, while small blazing embers dropped freely into the street.
“Is everyone out? Everyone safe? Anyone missing?” panted Carter, the
young proprietor of the Cactus House.
The disturbed guests ranged themselves about Carter, who looked them
over swiftly.
“Where are Mrs. Gerry and her two babies?” demanded the hotel man, his
cheeks blanching.
None answered, for no one had seen the woman and her children.
“They must be in the house,” cried Carter.
At that instant a woman's face appeared, briefly, at a window on the
third floor. Her piercing cry rang out, then her face vanished, a cloud
of smoke driving her from the open window.
“Hustle the ladders along!” begged the hotel man hoarsely. “We must
rescue that woman and her children. Her husband will be here in morning.
What can we say to him if we allow his wife and children to perish in
the flames?”
In a few moments a long ladder had been hauled off the track and brave
men rushed it to the wall, two men starting to ascend the moment it was
in place.
In another moment they came sliding down, balked. Flames had enveloped
the upper end of the ladder. It had to be hauled down, buckets of water
being dashed over the blazing sides.
“You can't get a ladder up on any part of that wall to the third floor,”
called the chief of the fire department hoarsely, as he broke through a
thick veil of smoke. “You'll have to try the rear.”
“Where are Reade and Hazelton?” called a voice.
“Reade!”
“Hazelton!”
There was no answer. A hundred men turned, looking blankly at their
nearest fellows.
“They've gone down in the flames!” called another voice.
“Reade and Hazelton have lost their lives!”
“That'll make their enemies happy!” groaned one man, and other voices
took it up.
“Carter,” shouted one big man, running to the proprietor, “if this blaze
is the work of a fire-bug, then look for Reade and Hazelton's enemies.
They have the most to gain by the death of those young fellows!”
A hoarse yell went up from the crowd. All of a sudden it seemed plain to
every man present that the hatred for Tom and Harry in certain quarters
fully accounted for the fire.
“Get a rope! Lynch somebody!” shouted one voice after another.
“First of all, let's find a way to get that woman and her babies out!”
Carter appealed, frantically.
Scores of voices took up this cry, and numbers of men hastened around to
the rear of the little hotel in the wake of the laddermen.
“We must find Reade and Hazelton, too,” shouted others.
“Then we'll lynch someone for this night's business!”
The cry was taken up hoarsely.
Two ladders were quickly hoisted at the rear. Almost before they had
begun to hoist, the laddermen and spectators felt that it was a useless
attempt.
Nor did the doors and passages seem to offer any better avenue of
escape.
Chug, chug, chug! sounded a touring car close at hand. An automobile
stopped, Dr. Furniss jumping out.
“Anyone in danger!” shouted the young doctor.
“Yes; a woman and her children. Also Reade and Hazelton!”
“It's all right, then,” nodded Furniss, looking relieved. “Tom Reade and
Harry Hazelton have gone to the aid of the woman.”
“If I could only believe that!” gasped Proprietor Carter. “We've tried
the ladders, and we've tried the corridors of the house. It's a raging
furnace in there.”
Dr. Furniss looked on rather calmly.
“I'm merely wondering on which side of the house those two engineers
will appear with the woman and her children,” he declared.
For the fourth time a ladder was being vainly raised at the rear.
Suddenly a shout rang out. In the basement a window was unexpectedly
knocked out from the inside.
Through the way thus cleared leaped a young man so blackened with smoke
as to be unrecognizable, though it was Hazelton.
Before those who first espied the young man recovered from their
surprise, a pair of arms from the inside handed out the body of a child
to Hazelton.
Then came another child. Next the senseless body of a woman was handed
out.
Dr. Furniss was the first to recover, from delighted amazement. In a
bound he was on the spot, taking care of one of the children himself and
bawling to others to bring the rest of the family.
Tom Reade, looking more like a burnt-cork minstrel in hard luck than
like his usual self, sprang through the window way and followed.
“Here, you people--stand back!” roared Tom, elbowing his way along. “Dr.
Furniss and his patients want room and air. Stand back!”
“It's Reade!” yelled a dozen men in delight.
“Well, what of it?” asked Tom coolly, as he followed Furniss. “Was there
anyone here who expected that I'd be lost?”
“Hurrah! Where's Hazelton?”
“Who wants me?” demanded the other unrecognizable, smoke-blackened
figure.
“They're both safe!”
“Oh--cut it out,” begged Tom good-humoredly. “You can't lose an engineer
or even kill him. Doc, what's the report?”
“All three are alive,” replied Dr. Furniss, “but they'll need care and
nursing. Here, help me place them in my car. Someone get in and ride
with me--I'll need help. You, Reade!”
“No,” responded Tom with emphasis, as he looked down at his discolored
self. “If the lady saw me when she opened her eyes, she'd faint again.
I'd scare the kiddies into convulsions. A bath for me!”
A man from the crowd quickly stepped into the tonneau of the car, ready
to care for the woman and her children while the physician drove his car
home.
“Hello, Reade! My congratulations on your getting out. 'Twas a brave
deed, too, to save that poor woman and her children.”
Frank Danes pressed through the crowd about the car, reaching out to
seize Reade's hand.
Into Tom's face flashed a sudden look that few had ever seen there.
It was a look full of contempt that the young chief engineer bent on the
man who had greeted him.
“Your hand!” cried Danes, in a voice ringing with admiration.
“Don't you touch me!” warned Reade, his voice vibrating with anger.
“Why--what--” began Danes, then reached his own right hand for Tom's.
“Make way for this 'gentleman' to fall!” roared Reade, then swung a
crushing blow that landed squarely in Danes's face.
The latter went down in a heap.
There had been no explanation of the seemingly unprovoked blow, but
the crowd surged forward, snatching Danes's body up as though he were
something of which these men were anxious to be rid.
“Did he set the hotel afire?” demanded one man in husky tones.
“Did he?” chorused the crowd.
“Lemme through! Here's a rope!”
Then followed wild sounds that could not be distinguished as words.
These men of Paloma seemed bent upon fighting for the possession of
Frank Danes, who, having now recovered his senses, emitted shrill
appeals for mercy.
“Here's the fire-bug! Here's the human match!”
“To the nearest tree!”
“I've got the rope ready!”
In another thirty seconds Frank Danes would have been dangling from a
limb of the nearest tree. Again Reade and Hazelton sprang into action.
“Stand back, men--please do!” begged Tom, fighting his way through the
thinnest side of the crowd. “Don't kill any man without a trial.”
“You know that this tenderfoot fired the hotel, don't you?” asked one
man hoarsely.
“I've reason to suspect that he did--”
“That's enough for us!” roared a hundred voices.
“But I've no positive proof of Danes' guilt,” Tom insisted.
“To the tree with him!”
“Not while I've breath left in my body!” Tom blazed forth desperately.
“Come, Harry!”
Hazelton sprang to his chum's side, the two fighting desperately to
drive away the men who held Frank Danes captive.
“Wait a few hours at least, men!” Tom appealed earnestly. “Don't do
anything now that you'll be sorry for to-morrow.”
Other men of calm judgment began to see the force of Reade's remarks.
Tom and Harry were swiftly backed by such reinforcements that the
trembling wretch was torn from his would-be destroyers.
“Reade,” sobbed Frank Danes, “as long as I live I'll never forget your
splendid conduct.”
“Shut up!” retorted Tom roughly. “I don't want to have to knock you down
again. It might start a riot that no man could quell.”
“Pass the skulking tenderfoot out to us!” implored some of the men on
the edge of the crowd, among whom was the man with the spare rope.
“No! We won't disgrace the town with a lynching,” Tom shot back. “Wait
until cool judgment has had time to do its work.”
“Bear a hand there!” roared Harry. “Help the firemen to save the next
building. Follow me!”
Thus led, the fickle crowd started to the aid of the firemen.
“Come with me, Danes,” whispered Tom hoarsely, sternly. “Keep your
distance, however, or I shall lay violent hands on you.”
Once out of the glare of light cast by the burning of the hotel, Tom
Reade pointed down a dark side street.
“There's your way, Danes,” whispered Reade. “Skip! Be far from Paloma by
daylight--or nothing will save you.”
“Do you consider me responsible for that fire?” faltered Danes.
“Hazelton and I went through that fire,” Tom retorted sternly. “We had
a hard fight to save that woman and her babies, and were nearly choked
with the fumes of the coal oil with which the fire was kindled. I
couldn't swear, in court, Danes, that you started the blaze, but your
coat and your hands have the odor of coal oil.”
Dane's face turned pale, his legs shaking under him.
“So, you see,” continued Tom savagely, “you'll do well to escape before
anyone else notices the smell of coal oil on you.”
“You've been mighty good to me--and I--” chattered Danes.
“Shut up, as I advised you before!” rasped Tom Reade. “I've been as good
to you as I'd be to a rattlesnake. Get out of Arizona before the men of
this town suspect--understand--you?”
“I will,” Frank Danes agreed, his teeth chattering.
“Don't ever show your face again in this part of the world.”
“I won't, Reade. Again, my thanks--”
“Shut up!” Tom insisted. “Thanks from you would make me feel like a
traitor to the community. Skip! Carry word to the Colthwaite Company,
however, that their latest scheme against us has failed like the
others!”
At mention of the Colthwaits, Danes turned and fled in earnest.
“That was their second attempt,” muttered Tom grimly, as he turned back
to where the flames still held dominion. “I wonder if I shall be as
lucky when the third attempt against me is made?”