GILBERT RETURNS GOOD FOR EVIL
“Nuggy Polk!” gasped Gilbert; and for an instant he could say no more.
“Sa--save me!” panted the prisoner. “Don’t let me bu--burn up!”
“I will do what I can for you,” answered the young lieutenant.
He leaped to the window, and took hold of the bars. They were an inch
thick, and resisted every effort he made to bend them. He examined the
sockets, to find each solidly imbedded in the stones of the window
frame.
“Break them--somehow!” pleaded Nuggy Polk. “O Pennington, please don’t
leave me!”
“I’ll do what I can for you, Polk.”
Again Gilbert glanced around the apartment. The smoke was so thick he
could see but little, and it made the tears flow down his cheeks in a
stream. At the opposite end of the prison the flames crackled fiercely,
and they were swiftly coming closer. Whatever was to be done must be
done quickly, or it would be too late.
His eyes rested on the iron end of a cot; and as quickly as possible
he smashed the bed apart, and caught up one of the side pieces. Using
this as a lever, he pried upon one of the bars of the window, and after
great effort succeeded in bending it several inches.
“Now try to pull in your head, Polk,” he said, and helped the young
man. Even yet it was a tight squeeze, but the deed was accomplished
with no further harm to the young man than a badly scratched ear.
But just as Nuggy was freed there came a strong rush of wind and a
cloud of smoke which enveloped both like a sheet. The fire was coming
up the corridor, and had already reached the stairway by which Gilbert
had ascended to the ward.
“Wha--what shall we do next?” groaned Nuggy. “We are lost! Oh, Heaven
help us!” And, too weak to stand longer, he sank on his knees, and then
went into a heap on the floor.
“Come, this won’t do!” cried Gilbert, and caught the young man by the
arm. “We must get out--we simply must!” But Nuggy did not hear him,
for he had fainted.
Leaving the young man on the floor, Gilbert ran toward the corridor. A
glance told him that escape at the further end was cut off completely.
He looked at the ward opposite, a door of which stood wide open. Beyond
was a window opening upon a narrow court-yard, a spot the fire had not
yet touched.
Gilbert ran to the window, to find a number of the bars gone. In the
court-yard he saw several firemen.
“Get a ladder!” he called out. “A ladder, quick! There are two of us up
here!”
His words were not understood by the natives, but they were understood
by a German in the crowd; and he quickly translated them, and a rush
was made for a bamboo ladder.
In the mean time Gilbert had crawled back to where he had left Nuggy.
He could scarcely breathe, and was afraid that each moment might prove
his last.
“Come!” he said to the young man, who had opened his eyes in a dazed
way. “Be quick! It is our only chance.”
“We are doomed,” moaned Nuggy. “Oh, why did I ever come to China! This
comes of doing wrong. Heaven forgive me!” And again he sank back, too
weak and terror-stricken to do anything for himself.
The position was so full of peril Gilbert hardly knew what to do.
The flames were close at hand, and in a minute more escape would be
impossible. For one brief instant he thought to leave Nuggy Polk to his
fate. Then he grated his teeth.
“I’ll save him, anyway,” he thought grimly; and, unable to lift the
limp form, he caught Nuggy by the collar, and literally dragged him
over the floor and into the corridor. Here a hot blast came up, and
made him stagger. The sparks, flying in all directions, burnt his neck
and hands. But still he did not let go; and the next moment he was at
the window of the opposite ward with Nuggy in his arms.
[Illustration: “I’LL SAVE HIM ANYWAY,” HE THOUGHT.]
A ladder was coming, but it was not yet there; and the few seconds to
follow were trying in the extreme. The smoke poured toward the window,
and the flames came licking in at the door.
“Hurry up!” gasped Gilbert. “Hurry! The flames are right behind us.”
Then the ladder came, and a dozen men hoisted it up to the window.
How he got outside with Nuggy in his arms, Gilbert could never tell
afterward. He tried to descend, but his head swam around like a top;
and all he could do was to hold on where he was.
“We’re coming. Don’t move!” said a voice below him; and in a second
his burden was taken from him. Then, as he felt his senses going, he
slipped down the ladder, struck among a crowd of people, and for the
moment knew no more.
When Gilbert recovered, he found himself sitting on a bench in the rear
of the prison yard, and several American soldiers in attendance upon
him.
“Lieutenant, you had a close call,” said one of the soldiers. “Another
minute, and it would have been all over with you.”
“Yes, I know it,” answered Gilbert, as he drew a deep breath. “I--I
feel rather queer yet.”
“I should think so! Better take it easy for a while.”
“I’ll have to, sergeant. What of that man I brought out?”
“He’s in a bad way, lieutenant. Reckon he was sick, wasn’t he?”
“So I believe. But he’ll pull through, won’t he?”
“Yes, he’ll pull through,” put in another voice, and a surgeon strode
up. “Can I do anything for you, lieutenant?”
“I don’t know that you can. I think after I have had a wash-up I’ll
feel better.”
The surgeon wished, however, to do all he could, and gave Gilbert a
dose of medicine to counteract the effect of the smoke which the young
lieutenant had inhaled. Inside of half an hour Gilbert felt quite like
himself once more, though somewhat shaky in the lower limbs.
Nuggy Polk had been taken to a neighboring building, which had been
transformed into a temporary hospital for such of the prisoners as were
sick. When Gilbert got there, he found the young man in a doze; and he
was advised not to disturb him.
“He has been sick, and this affair has made him worse,” said the prison
doctor, in broken English. “Better let him rest.” And Gilbert agreed.
An hour later found the acting captain of Company A at the home of the
Bartletts, where a warm welcome awaited him. He found Amos Bartlett in
an easy-chair, propped up by hair pillows. The old tea-merchant was
glad to see him.
“I am much better, thank you,” he said in answer to Gilbert’s query. “I
seem to have come out of a bad dream.”
“I am glad to see it,” returned the young lieutenant. “You must take it
easy for a while, though, both in body and in mind.”
“My mind is easy, thanks to what the insurance companies have promised
to do and what my wife has found out about the Richmond Importing
Company. I presume she has told you of what Nuglich Polk tried to do.”
“I will tell him later on, Amos,” put in the wife. “But now you must
rest.” And she beckoned Gilbert from the room.
A long talk between Mrs. Bartlett, Jennie, and Gilbert followed; and
the young lieutenant was shown the papers taken from Nuggy Polk, which
he perused with keen interest. Then he told of the affair at the
prison, but modestly refused to relate how much of a hero he had been.
“Somehow, I think Nuggy Polk will be a better fellow after this,” he
concluded. “He has been brought face to face with death, and that
often makes a difference in a man.”
“I hope he does turn over a new leaf,” answered Mrs. Bartlett.
The young lieutenant was invited to remain at the Bartletts’ home over
night, but could not do so, as it was his duty to return to the troops
he had accompanied from Pekin. He had no time off again for two days,
when he got a leave of absence for three hours, and went over to the
new prison to see how Nuggy Polk was faring.
A change had indeed come over the young man,--a change so startling
that Gilbert was almost dumfounded. Nuggy’s face was pinched and white,
and there was a look in his eyes which gave him the appearance of being
haunted. He stared wildly at the young lieutenant.
“So it was you who saved me?” he said in a strangely unnatural voice.
“I can’t believe it!”
“And why not, Polk?” asked Gilbert, as he sat down beside the bed.
“Why not? Why should you save me--after all I did against you?”
“I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking of saving a fellow-being
who couldn’t save himself. Not to have done as I did would have been
inhuman.”
“You risked your life for mine!”
“Perhaps I did. But let us pass that over, and talk of something else.
How do you feel now?”
“I am sick--I was sick before the fire. This climate has knocked out my
stomach.”
Gilbert was on the point of asking if liquor had not had as much to do
with it as the climate, but wisely refrained. “You want to take care of
yourself in the future,” he remarked. “Be very careful of what you eat
and drink.”
“I shall be careful. I’m not going to drink any more,--at least, not as
I’ve been in the habit of drinking. But, Pennington, I want to talk to
you. As I said before, I can’t understand why you risked your life for
mine.”
“Then don’t try to understand it. It is past now.”
“You are a better fellow than I am,--a good deal better,” persisted
Nuggy. “I don’t believe I would have tried to save you under the same
circumstances.”
“Then it is a good thing that I am myself and you are yourself,” said
Gilbert, not knowing how else to reply.
“You are a true Christian, Pennington,--a real, practical Christian.”
“Thank you. I have tried to be so--even though I am a soldier.”
“Ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have let me burn up,” continued
Nuggy, with a deep shudder. “I know just how tight I was at that
window. I couldn’t budge, and I was suffering the tortures of the
infernal region. I was sure my end had come, when you released me.”
“There was certainly no time to spare.”
“Pennington, after this I am going to be a different man--I swear it.
This thing has opened my eyes. It doesn’t pay to--to--well, to cheat
others, as I’ve been trying to do. I was going to try to get the
best of you and the Bartletts, but I shan’t try any more. It’s a bad
business.”
“I agree with you on that point, Polk. The man who tries to do wrong is
bound to come to grief sooner or later.”
“Have you seen the Bartletts?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know why I am here.”
“I do.”
“I am glad of it, for it will make it easier for me to speak of what is
in my mind. I suppose you have read the letters that were taken from
me.”
“I have.”
“We were going to get old Bartlett to sell out for a song--if we could.
I was to prove to him that the Importing Company was about to go
bankrupt.”
“I have suspected that for some time.”
“The Importing Company is in first-class condition and making money,”
went on Nuggy, quickly, as if afraid to keep back the information for
fear of not being able to free his mind later.
“You told me that at Manila.”
“And the Bartlett stock is worth two hundred cents on the dollar.”
“And what of the Pennington stock?” put in Gilbert, quickly.
“The Pennington stock is worth just as much--and there is at least
sixteen thousand dollars’ worth of it,” was the answer, which made the
young lieutenant’s heart bound. “There, the cat is out of the bag--and
I am glad of it. That secret has lain like a lump of lead on my soul
ever since you saved my life.”
“Sixteen thousand dollars’ worth of stock?”
“Yes, and worth thirty-two thousand dollars in the money market.
Pennington, you shall have what is due you, even if I have to force my
father into giving it to you.”
“That is the stock my father placed in his hands just before his death?”
“Yes.”
“How did you learn of this? Did your father tell you?”
Nuggy Polk hung his head for a moment. “No, he didn’t tell me. I was at
his private safe at home one day, and I found the missing certificates.
I had had a row with father over some money matters; and, when he came
home, I threatened to expose him if he didn’t give me what I wanted.
Ever since that time we have worked hand in glove together, and he has
allowed me all the spending money I wanted. But that is past now. I am
going to lead a straight life, and I am going to try to get father to
do the same.”