KIND-HEARTED Mr. Ledwell had already started inquiries concerning
the blind boy’s mother. In a large city where there are so many
institutions for receiving these unfortunate cases, this takes much
time. Then, at the time the sick woman was taken away, she was
unconscious, and, if she were still living, perhaps she was still too
ill to tell her name. Mr. Ledwell also consulted an oculist in regard
to Billy’s eyes, and he expressed an opinion that Billy’s sight might
be restored. First, however, there must be an operation, and, to
prepare for that, Billy must have the best of care, in order to become
as strong as possible. Life in an engine-house, kind as the men were
to him, was not the place to bring this about. He ought to have a
woman’s care,—one who would bathe and dress him, and give him the most
nourishing food to eat.
Such a woman Mr. Ledwell found. She had been nurse to Sam’s father,
and had received so many kindnesses from the family that she was only
too happy to return some of the favors she had received from them. She
was now a widow, and lived in a quiet street not very far from the
engine-house.
At first Billy took the idea of the change very much to heart. He
couldn’t bear the thought of leaving his kind friends and Jack. He was
a very obedient little fellow, though, and when the state of affairs
was explained to him, and he was promised frequent visits from his
friends, Jack included, he tried to make the best of it.
“Only think, Billy, you will be able to see the blue sky and the faces
of your friends,” said Mr. Ledwell, “and your good friend Jack who
saved your life; and by and by we shall find your mother, and you can
see her, which will be the best of all.”
Billy had used the eyes of others for so long that he did not realize
how much he should gain; but he tried to be as cheerful as possible,
because he wanted to please those who had been so good to him.
One morning Mr. Ledwell and Sam called to take him to his new home.
As Reordan dressed his little friend for the last time, it was well
that Billy could not see; for the tender-hearted fireman was so sorry
to part with his little charge that he looked very sad. Although
Billy could not _see_ the grief in Reordan’s face, he felt it in the
tones of his voice and in the gentle touch of his hand, and the tears
were running down the blind boy’s face. This sight was too much for
tender-hearted Reordan, whose own eyes began to look very moist.
Sam looked from one to the other, and his usually bright, happy face
grew serious. He tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would
come, in spite of the effort he made. At last, with the tears running
over his cheeks, he burst out,—
“I don’t see what there is to cry about. I am praying to God to make
Billy see, and I know He will do it.”
“You are right, Sam,” said his grandpapa. “There _isn’t_ anything to
cry about. Billy is going to a pleasant home, and by and by he will see
us all, and we shall find his mother, and he will be as happy as he can
be.”
Jack all this time had been eagerly watching the faces about him. He
could never bear to see anybody unhappy, and there he sat, softly
crying to himself, and doing his best not to make any noise about it.
He looked as if he wanted to remind them that all would come out right
in the end, but they were not thinking of him. So, when Mr. Ledwell
expressed exactly what Jack wanted to say, he could not contain himself
any longer and broke into a loud howl.
“There!” exclaimed Reordan, “now that we have set Jack going, I guess
it’s about time for us to stop. You’re all right, aren’t you, Kid?”
“Y—s,” sobbed Billy.
“So there isn’t any need to worry. Come on, Kid!” and suddenly catching
up the little boy, Reordan seated him upon one of his broad shoulders,
and set off at a rapid gait for the sleigh.
“Good-bye, Kid! Come and see us soon!” the firemen called out; and the
blind boy answered their good-byes all the way to the sleigh.
There was such a bustle in starting, the horses, who had grown
impatient at waiting, setting the sleigh-bells a-ringing as they pawed
the snow and fidgeted about in their harnesses, that Billy grew quite
excited, and became cheerful again. He waved his farewells as the
sleigh drove off, and called out “Good-bye” so long as his voice could
be heard.
“Poor little kid!” said Reordan; “I wouldn’t have believed that it
would be so hard to part with him.”
Jack looked after the sleigh with sad eyes and drooping tail, then
silently went back to the engine-house and lay down where he could
hear the bell if it struck. He hoped it would, for Jack was so strictly
business-like that he never liked to give way to his feelings. He lay
still for some time, thinking of Billy’s pleasant ways and the good
company he always was, and he grew sadder and sadder. Hardest of all
was it to hear the firemen say that they didn’t believe the operation
on his eyes would be successful, and that he would probably always be
blind. Jack was beginning to think that he would not be able to bear
the suspense much longer, when all at once the gong in the engine-house
struck.
In an instant the firemen and Jack were all on their feet, every
thought of the blind boy lost in the hurry and excitement of starting
to the fire. A minute more, and the engine was on its way, the horses
dashing along at full speed, with Jack tearing madly ahead, the notes
of the bugle clearing the crowded streets as if by magic.
It was a hard fire to fight, for the building was high and lightly
built, and by the time our engine reached the spot, flames were pouring
out of the lower stories. Ladders were placed against the burning
building, and the firemen mounted them to reach the roof. Among the
men on the roof were those of Engine 33. Jack watched them hard at
work, and longed to be with them. Sometimes they had carried him up the
ladders, but not to such a height as this.
Jack felt hurt and neglected, for was he not one of the company? He was
anxious, too, for how could they manage without him? It would not look
well if any of his friends should see him standing there safely on the
ground, while the lives of the rest of the company were in danger. Jack
would have preferred to walk into the midst of the blaze rather than be
thought a coward.
All at once a thought struck him. The next building was of the same
height as the burning one. Jack remembered that when a building was
burning in the lower stories, so that the firemen could not enter it,
they often reached the roof through a neighboring one. The Fire-Dog
always acted promptly, and in an instant he was at the door of the
adjoining building. It was an hotel, and he had not many seconds to
wait before some one came out. In a twinkling in crowded Jack, before
the door had time to swing back, and he was on his way to the stairs.
In the excitement caused by the fire, nobody noticed a strange dog
hurrying through the halls and up the stairways, and Jack soon reached
the upper story. The firemen were there before him, and the skylight
through which they had gone was left open. They were playing on the
roof of the hotel as well as into the burning building.
Jack crossed over the streams of water that were running over the roof,
and joined his company. Keeping as close as possible to his particular
friend Reordan, he followed his every movement; and Reordan, hard at
work, with no thought for anything but the duty before him, was glad
of the dog’s company. This feeling was not expressed in words, but a
glance of his eye as the Fire-Dog found him was as good as words for
faithful Jack, who held himself ready to share the fireman’s fate,
whatever it might be.
While hard at work, the chief espied Jack. “How did that dog get up
here?” he asked in astonishment.
“Up the ladder, sir,” replied Reordan, promptly; for he never lost an
opportunity to show off Jack’s intelligence.
“Well, that beats the Dutch,” said the chief. “It isn’t natural for a
dog to mount ladders. He’ll come to a bad end.”
“The chief doesn’t like Jack,” said Reordan to himself. “I must keep
him out of his way, or there’ll be an order to get rid of him. Keep
close, Jack, old boy!”
Jack too understood by the chief’s tone and by the expression of his
face that he was no favorite with him, for dogs often _feel_ the way
people think of them even more than people do. “I shall take care to
keep out of _his_ way,” said Jack to himself, as he followed his friend
Reordan about.
The firemen’s work was over at last, and Jack betook himself to the
street by the way he had come, and by the time his company had reached
the street there was Jack, standing by the horses’ heads ready to
start. The men, wet and tired, jumped upon the engine, and they started
for home, Jack trotting leisurely along the sidewalk, as was his custom
after a fire. Now that the excitement of the fire was over, he was
beginning to think how lonely it would be in the engine-house without
his little companion Billy.
“Nobody there to hug me and say, ‘Glad to see you back, you brave old
Jack! I wonder if you saved any little boy’s life to-day, Jack.’ No, I
shall not hear those pleasant words any more. How lonesome it will be!”
With these thoughts in his mind, whom should he see coming towards
him but his old friend the bull-dog Boxer? He was a white dog, and
he usually looked very clean, for he was always bathed once a week.
He had told Jack about it, for he didn’t enjoy the operation,
they scrubbed him so hard and used carbolic soap, which was very
disagreeable to him. They usually managed to let some of the suds get
into his eyes, and it made them smart dreadfully. This bath always took
place on Monday, after the maids were through washing, and Jack smiled
to himself as he recalled how Boxer often managed to be out of the way
when washing morning came around. This was Monday morning, and Jack
said to himself, “I’d be willing to bet a good-sized bone that Boxer
got around that bath to-day.”
It certainly looked as if he had, for Boxer’s white coat looked very
dingy against the white snow. It looked rough, too, and there was an
ugly gash over one of his eyes. “He’s been in a fight,” said Jack to
himself. “I don’t doubt he’s been having a beautiful time.”
So soon as Boxer espied Jack coming towards him his whole appearance
changed. His tail stood up straight and stiff, his hair rose in a
ridge along his spine, and he walked on tiptoe as if he were treading
on eggs and didn’t want to break them. His eyes grew fierce-looking and
seemed to bulge more than ever, although he had naturally very full
eyes. He licked his chops, too, and seemed to swell to twice his usual
size. All the time he looked straight ahead as if he didn’t see Jack at
all.
“Now this is too absurd, to keep up such a feeling,” said Jack to
himself, for thinking about little Billy had put him in a very soft
mood. So he stopped just as he was opposite his old friend.
“Hallo, Boxer!” he called in a pleasant voice.
Boxer, however, did not return the salutation, although he settled down
to a walk and seemed to be shivering.
“It seems to me that such old friends as we ought not to pass one
another in this way. What’s the use in quarrelling? Life is too short
for that. Come over this afternoon and see me. I’ve got some fine
bones that have been buried a long time, and they must be about mellow
by this time. Come over, and we’ll try ’em and talk over old times
together.”
While Jack was making this amiable speech, Boxer was walking on tiptoe
in a circle about him, and looking at him out of the corners of his
eyes. When a dog does that it means that he wants to pick a quarrel,
and he holds himself ready to spring on the other dog at the first
disagreeable word he utters. Jack, however, would not utter that word,
he was determined to make peace.
“There are no friends like old friends,” said Jack, pleasantly, “and I
can’t afford to lose any of mine. Don’t let a few hasty words keep us
apart any longer. I’m sure I’m sorry for my part of the affair, and I
can’t say any more than that.”
Boxer stopped walking about in circles, and seemed to be swallowing
something that stuck in his throat. The ridge on his back went down,
too, and his tail didn’t stand up as stiffly. These are signs that a
dog has given up his intention of fighting.
“The quarrel was not of my making,” he growled at last.
“I’m willing to take all the blame of it,” replied Jack, who was
thankful to find his old friend coming around, for he knew that a
bull-dog couldn’t be expected to do this at once. “I’ve lots to tell
you. You don’t know anything about the blind kid who’s been stopping
with us. I’ll tell you about him and about the little yellow dog Toby
who was lost, and how I happened to come across him. I gave him your
rules about slipping a collar. You know you taught them to me. I doubt
if he’s a dog of enough character to carry it out. He looked kind of
weak in his mind.”
“If he’s that kind of a dog, he’d better stay where he is,” growled
Boxer.
“I wouldn’t wonder if he did,” replied Jack, “but we’ll see. He seemed
to have a great respect for you when I told him about you, and said he
should like to meet you.”
This was very gratifying to Boxer’s feelings, and his reserve began to
thaw still more. Good-natured Jack saw the advantage he had gained, and
took his leave, saying,—
“Well, be sure and come over this afternoon and we’ll talk things
over. The blind kid’s story is very interesting. I should like to do
something for him, and we’ll think what can be done. Two heads are
better than one, you know, and yours is worth more than mine any day.”
“I’ll come around if I find time,” replied Boxer, for Jack’s tactful
words had done their work, and Boxer’s voice had lost so much of its
growl that it sounded quite natural again.
“Good-bye, then,” said Jack; and Boxer responded cheerfully, for at
heart he was glad to be at peace with his old friend, although his
nature was such that he could not have brought it about by himself,
even if Jack had met him two-thirds of the way.
“Now he’ll go home and have his bath, and it will cool his brain, and
he will be all right by afternoon,” said Jack to himself, as he betook
himself to the engine-house. “He gave in pretty well for a bull-dog,
and it didn’t hurt me a bit to take more than my share of the blame. My
shoulders are broad enough to bear it.”