IN THE BURNING HOUSE
Something must have happened to delay the coming of the firemen, for
as a rule they were prompt to reach the scene. Possibly their engine
had broken down again, as had happened once before; which accident
caused such a talk that public sentiment was aroused, with the result
that a new, modern auto-engine was ordered, and a paid department
arranged for.
"Look here, boys, we ought to do something about this!" exclaimed Jack
Winters, thrilled with what he had heard the sobbing old man cry out.
Philip Adkins turned toward him frantically. He certainly did not hate
boys just at that moment in his life, when it seemed that perhaps he
would have to depend on them for the help he was demanding.
"Oh! don't lose any time, I beg of you!" he cried. "I tried to rush
indoors myself, but some men caught hold of me, and said I'd surely
smother in the smoke. If I thought my poor Carl was lost, nothing
could keep me from going in. Save my boy for me, and any favor you ask
will be granted; but hurry! hurry, or it will be too late!"
Jack saw that the old man was wild with fear. He reached out and took
hold of him by the arm.
"Get a grip on yourself, Mr. Adkins," he said, in that steady voice of
his that generally acted so soothingly on those whom Jack addressed.
"We'll try to get him out for you. But first tell me where his room
is?"
"Upstairs at the first turn; but the hallway is full of smoke by now,
and oh! I even fear the fire has reached there!" cried the old man,
wringing his hands pitifully as he spoke.
"Try to point out the window of his room to me!" continued Jack,
steadily.
Eagerly Mr. Adkins consented to do so, even dragging the boy around
with him as he thrust up a hand and with trembling finger pointed
upward.
"That one you see with the sash lowered. We try to keep him from any
chilly draughts. When you push up the front stairs you must turn to
the left, and enter the small passage. Don't lose any more time, or it
will be too late! Go! please go!"
"We might make a human chain, and push up the stairs that way,"
suggested Phil Parker. "Then, even if one fellow does get dizzy
inhaling all that terrible smoke he won't be apt to drop down. Jack
could be at the end of the chain, always pushing ahead as we added on
to it here at the open door!"
Some of the others seemed to think that a pretty clever idea, judging
from the exclamations that arose all around. But Jack believed he knew
what might be a safer way than the scheme thus proposed.
"Hold on," he told the others, "I've got an idea that beats yours all
hollow, Phil. Leave it to me, fellows."
With that Jack sprang forward.
"I understand what he's got in his head!" cried Toby Hopkins. "It's
the grape-arbor! Don't you see it lies just under that window. Fact
is, a fellow can climb right up to the sash as easy as anything."
"Bully boy, Jack; you know how to manage it all right!" exclaimed
Steve, admiringly, though truth to tell he had never once doubted but
that Jack would discover a means to the end, as he nearly always did.
Jack was climbing fast. He knew that in a case like this seconds
count. That pungent wood smoke was a terrible thing, and if Carl lay
helpless at its mercy for a given period of time the chances were no
power on earth could restore the little cripple to life; for his
constitution was far from robust at the best, and consequently he must
succumb much more speedily than would a stronger boy.
Beaching the top of the arbor Jack started to crawl along the bars
heading toward the window. He had already arranged his simple plan of
campaign. There was indeed only one thing he could do, which was to
enter the room, and finding the lad manage in some fashion to get him
to the window, and down to the ground.
"Be ready down there when I want your help!" he shouted to the rest of
the gang; for what with the loud cries of new arrivals and the
crackling of the flames close by it was necessary to raise one's voice
in order to be heard.
One look downward Jack took just before he arrived at the side of the
house. It was light enough now to see easily, for the fire had broken
through, and the entire grounds seemed illuminated with the glow. He
saw the faces of his numerous comrades turned upward toward him,
intently watching his progress. And others had gathered around, too,
intensely interested in the outcome of the affair; for they realized
that it was a rescue that the football player had in hand.
There amidst the rest Jack picked out the weazened-up face of the old
man. He would never so long as he lived forget that, there was such a
world of apprehension, of piteous appeal in the look old Philip Adkins
was bending upon him; as though all his remaining hopes of a little
happiness in this world centered now upon the gallant boy who had
undertaken to save his Carl.
Then Jack reached the side of the house. It felt warm to his touch, a
fact that gave him a sudden fear that the worst might have happened to
the crippled boy beyond the window.
One effort he made to raise the sash, but it seemed stuck, or else was
locked. There was no time for halfway measures, and accordingly Jack,
tearing loose a broken section of a wooden bar that formed part of the
top of the trellis, smashed the window with several blows, after
warning those below to get from under.
He took pains to clear the sash from any projecting fingers of glass
that might have given him trouble in the shape of severe cuts. Then
without another glance at the spectators gathered below the boy
proceeded to crawl swiftly through the opening, heedless alike of the
smoke that was oozing forth in thick volumes, or the possibility of
his striking the fire itself, once he had entered the house.
They saw his heels vanish through the gap. Something like a gasp arose
from some of the gathered crowd, constantly augmented as fresh
arrivals came running up, to ask what had happened, and who it was
they saw entering through that window.
Some seemed to consider it a rash thing to do. These for the most part
were women who had not yet grasped the fact that Jack was not risking
his life out of sheer bravado, but that it was believed the poor
little cripple had been abandoned in his room through mistake, and it
was Jack's intention to save him if he could.
Then their opinions changed like magic, for their hearts filled with
sympathy. Even the sobbing old man became an object of pity, though up
to then few in the crowd had been heard to express any sorrow because
it was Philip Adkins' house that was afire. This was owing to his
unpopularity in Chester, where he never gave to any charitable object,
or for that matter even treated folks decently in his bitterness
toward all mankind because his poor boy was so deformed, and stricken
by a cruel Fate.
The football boys, however, felt none of those fears. They knew Jack
Winters' ways, and that he always did what he attempted, if it lay
within the range of human possibilities. Although he had gone from
their sight they continued to stand there in a bunch, ready to catch
the child if Jack dropped him from the window.
One there was who did not seem content to just stand and wait. Joel
Jackman was built upon too nervous lines for that; and just as soon as
he had seen the last of Jack through the broken window he started up
after his leader. Some of the other fellows called to him to come
back, but Joel knew what he was about, and gave no heed to their
cries.
Jack might need help, he argued with himself, and in that case his arm
would come in handy. There was surely enough of them below to do all
that was necessary, so that his absence would not count for much. And
after all perhaps Joel would prove to be right in his surmise.
Meanwhile Jack had entered the room.
He found it full of pungent smoke that filled his eyes, and made them
smart in a way that was almost unbearable. Of course under such
conditions he could not distinguish a single thing, and would have to
depend on groping his way around.
But it could not be a very large apartment, he figured, and the bed on
which little crippled Carl lay must be against the wall. So he
immediately started to go the rounds, feeling with his hands in front
of him. Foot by foot he went, coming in contact first of all with some
sort of dresser that evidently stood between the windows, for there
were two in the room, the other having its shutter closed, probably in
order to keep out the light to a certain extent.
Still onward Jack pressed, groping as he went. He shut his eyes, for
sight was next to useless under such trying conditions, and the smart
of the wood smoke almost unbearable.
Then to his satisfaction he stumbled against what proved to be the
side of a bed. Eagerly he bent lower, and began to feel among the
clothes. He was thrilled when he actually touched something that
seemed like a human form, though Jack felt a wave of feeling pass over
him when he realized that it was the poor boy's distorted back that he
had first of all come in contact with.
Tenderly, eagerly he gathered some of the bedclothes around the
figure. There was not the least sign of life or animation about the
boy. He might be dead for all Jack could tell; but no matter, he must
be saved from those cruel approaching flames.
Having bundled him up the best he could, under such trying conditions,
Jack gathered the little chap in his arms. He felt a glow in the
region of his heart just then, such as anyone engaged in a mission of
rescue might experience. But then, it was only a little thing to do,
Jack thought; he really took no risk, and had he held back he would
never have forgiven himself for allowing prudence to sap his desire to
render assistance.
Now for the window again. He looked around him in vain. His eyes were
blinded by the smoke so that he could not tell in which direction he
must go in order to come upon the exit.
Baffled in this one respect, that of vision, Jack turned to another of
his senses. He knew there must be a draught setting toward the
opening, from which smoke was pouring so heavily. So he set to work
endeavoring to learn which way the air moved, knowing that in this
fashion he could grope his way to the exit.
Those outside were becoming a bit worried. No doubt seconds had been
magnified into minutes in their minds, and they began to have fears
that something had happened to the daring lad who had ventured within
the building. Every eye remained glued upon the place of his
disappearance.
Joel had before then succeeded in reaching the open window, where he
crouched and waited, occasionally peering in as if half tempted to
crawl through the gap after Jack.
He had hard work contenting himself to remain there on his precarious
perch; indeed, only that he did not wish to seem to be interfering
with Jack's plans Joel certainly would have ventured across the window
sill. Unable to beep silent any longer, he finally gave a loud shout:
"This way out, Jack! Here's the window, over this way!"