IT is some time since we have heard from the engine-house, and a change
has taken place since we last looked in. The off horse was quite old,
and the headlong speed at which the horses were obliged to go whenever
an alarm was sounded, began to tell heavily on him. He was an ambitious
fellow, and strained every nerve to keep pace with his mates and do his
share of the work, but he was a tired horse when the scene of the fire
was reached, and soon an order came for the off horse to give up his
place to a younger and stronger one.
This order filled the kind hearts of the company with sorrow, for
old Jim was a great favorite. When the news reached them, there was
silence for a while, then warm-hearted Reordan burst out impetuously,—
“If old Jim goes, I go too. There isn’t one of us that has done his
work faithfuller than old Jim has!”
“That’s so, he’s done his duty right slap up. What would the others
be without old Jim, I’d like to know? They always take their cue from
him,” said another.
“I’ve always made it as easy as I could for old Jim,” said the driver,
“and have done my best to make the other two do their share of the
work; but the knowing old fellow won’t have it, and isn’t satisfied
unless his nose is just a grain ahead of the others, so he can feel he
is doing his share and a little more.”
“He’s acted just like a Christian,” said another, “and if we do our
duty as well as old Jim has done his, we sha’n’t have anything to
answer for.”
“Get rid of him!” exclaimed a young man. “A nice return to make for his
faithful service! It makes me sick to think how horses are turned off
when they begin to lose their usefulness! Just think of old Jim sold to
some old junk pedler or such, and being starved and beaten after all
the good work he has done! It wouldn’t break the Fire Department to
pension him, and they ought to do it!”
“They _ought_ to, but whether they _will_ is another thing,” said
Reordan. “They will say that they can’t afford to pension off all the
old horses in the department.”
“Well, if they can’t afford it, _we_ can,” replied the young man. “What
do you say to starting a fund for old Jim’s support, and boarding him
out for the rest of his life?”
What could they say, but one thing, for courage and generosity go hand
in hand, and to men who daily risk their lives to save those of others,
as do our brave firemen, a dollar doesn’t look so big as it does to
smaller natures.
After this decision the hearts of all were lightened, but parting with
their old friend came hard.
“Let’s get him out of the way before the new horse comes,” said
Reordan. “It would hurt his feelings to see a new horse in the stall
that has been his for so long.”
The others felt as Reordan did, and just before the new horse arrived,
old Jim came out of his stall for the last time. The intelligent
creature turned his eyes on the men gathered to bid him farewell, and
rubbed his nose affectionately against the shoulders of those who stood
nearest him.
“He knows he’s being sent off just as well as we do,” said one, “and
he’s trying to say good-bye to us.”
He certainly did know it, for his large, mild eyes had the sorrowful
look that all dumb creatures have at leaving old friends.
“He looks kind of reproachful,” said one, “just as if he thought we
hadn’t appreciated the good work he’s done for us.”
[Illustration]
The men had bought a warm blanket for the old horse, knowing that he
was going to a country stable which was not so warm as his stall in
the engine-house. This was buckled on him, and he was led away. At the
door he hesitated a moment, and looked back at his old home; then, with
drooping head, he left for his new quarters.
“Be good to him,” said the captain to the man who had come to take the
old horse to his new home. “The best you’ve got isn’t any too good for
old Jim.”
“We’ll take good care of him,” replied the man. “You don’t need to
worry about him.”
They watched the old horse so long as he was in sight, and nothing was
said for some time. Then Reordan spoke,—
“Well, it’s a comfort to think we’ve done the best we could for the old
horse. He’ll have plenty to eat and a good place to sleep in, and he
will have as comfortable an old age as we can give him.”
Jack the Fire-Dog had, of course, known what was going on, and his
heart was every bit as sad as the men’s.
“I suppose I’m a fool to feel so bad about it,” he confided to his
friend Boxer, “but I can’t help it. We’ve been to a good many fires
together, first and last, old Jim and I. My turn will come next, I
suppose. I’m not so young as I once was, and old dogs are in the way.”
Such remarks as these had a most depressing effect upon his friend
Boxer, for there is no dog more attached to his friends and more
sympathetic than a bull-dog, although he is so reserved that he does
not find it easy to express his feelings.
Boxer pondered over the situation, and the more he thought about it the
more convinced he became that something _must_ be done. He was on hand
when the old engine-horse was taken away from the home that had been
his for so long, and, as he looked at his friend Jack’s mournful face
and heard him softly crying to himself, Boxer could bear it no longer.
“It is true that they will be sending him away next,” he muttered to
himself; and as his indignation increased he cast his eyes about for
something upon which to vent his anger. The man leading old Jim away
caught his attention, and without stopping to consider the justice of
his act, in true bull-dog fashion he rushed after them and seized the
man by the leg of his trousers.
A commotion at once arose. Old Jim, startled at the sudden attack,
started back, twitching the halter-rope out of the man’s hand, while
the man struggled to free his leg from the bull-dog’s grip.
A bull-dog’s grip is a very peculiar thing. When he becomes excited,
his jaws, which are very strong and formed differently from those of
other dogs, become tightly locked. A spasm of the jaw seizes him, and
it is impossible for him to unlock them himself until the spasm has
passed. So Boxer held on, with his eyes set and his feet braced.
Now that old Jim was free, he stood still and looked on to see how the
affair was coming out. He was not the only spectator, for quite a crowd
collected at once. Varied was the advice given to make the bull-dog
loose his grip, and poor Boxer would have been roughly handled had not
Reordan seen the commotion and run to the spot. In a twinkling he had
out a sulphur match, and, lighting it, held it as near the dog’s nose
as he could without burning it.
The suffocating fumes of the sulphur match did their work, and Boxer
gasped for breath. Thus his jaws were unlocked, and the man was freed.
After such an excitement a dog always feels weak and shaky, and Boxer
returned to his friend Jack with drooping tail and unsteady legs.
“Well, I never before saw a bull-dog made to quit his hold that way,”
said one of the on-lookers.
“It’s the best way,” replied Reordan. “It’s a bull-dog’s nature to hold
on when once he gets started, and he doesn’t know how to stop. There’s
no use pounding him to make him let go. He simply can’t do it till the
spasm in his jaw lets up, and I don’t know any better way to bring it
about than this.”
“What did he tackle me for, anyway?” asked the man. “I didn’t do
anything to him, and the first thing I knew he grabbed me by the leg.”
“He probably thought you didn’t have any business to take the horse
off. He hangs round the engine-house a good deal;” and Reordan stroked
old Jim’s nose, for the old horse had come up behind him and put his
head over his shoulder.
“Well, if my trousers stood that, I guess they’ll stand all the work
I’ll give ’em for quite a spell,” said the farmer good-naturedly, as
he took Jim’s halter and started for home. “Say,” he added, as he saw
Reordan’s eyes resting sadly on old Jim, “don’t you worry about the
horse. I’ll look after him all right.”
This assurance lightened Reordan’s heart, and he returned to the
engine-house feeling that the best had been done for old Jim that could
be done.
The new off-horse arrived that day,—a fine young gray, with all the
restless life that only a young creature possesses. He was a superb
fellow, and he knew it, judging from the proud way in which he carried
himself. He was so full of life that he couldn’t bring himself to
walk sedately, but entered the engine-house with a springy step that
showed his colt days were not far behind him. When he was brought to
a stand-still, he pawed the floor in an impatient manner, as if he
demanded instant attention.
“Do they expect that colt to take the place of old Jim?” asked one of
the men.
“Oh, he’ll learn the whole business in a short time,” replied the man
who brought him. “He’s very intelligent.”
“Well, if the department don’t mind laying out their money in repairs,
I don’t doubt he’ll learn in time, but I don’t like the look of his
eye,” said the driver.
“What’s the matter with his eye?” demanded the man.
“It’s a skittish eye,” replied the driver,—“shows too much of the white
to suit me.”
“I’d be willing to pay for all the machines he smashes,” replied the
man; but the driver did not change his mind.
The new off-horse took possession of old Jim’s stall as if it were
his by right, and made himself at home immediately. He was very
intelligent, it is true, and he learned his duties very soon, but
still his youth was against him. He started off with the engine as
if the whole thing were great sport and gotten up especially for his
entertainment; and if the other two horses had not kept him back, there
would have been a runaway engine the very first time he was taken out.
He enjoyed _going_ to a fire of all things, because he could use his
strong muscles and let off some of the young life he didn’t know what
to do with, but he didn’t like coming back. The other two horses were
quite ready to go home at a gentle trot, but not so the new horse; and
as they lumbered along he felt that it devolved upon him to give a
little style to the team. He certainly did it, and many turned to watch
the fine knee action and spirited bearing of the new engine-horse.
One day his youthful spirits got the better of the new horse. The
department was called out to a fire in the business section of the
city, and Engine 33 left the engine-house in a mad rush at full speed,
as usual. When about half-way down the slope of the hill, a man on a
bicycle came suddenly around the corner from a side street. The new
horse was taken by surprise and shied badly. All the movements of such
a powerful young horse are vigorous, and the engine was thrown against
a lamp-post and wrecked.
When the chief heard of the accident, he remembered the dog who always
ran in front of the engine, and he at once said that the dog was the
cause of the accident and that they must get rid of him. “It is enough
to make any horse shy to have a dog getting under his feet,” he said.
It was in vain for the firemen to explain that Jack had nothing
whatever to do with the accident; the chief refused to be convinced.
The order concerning Jack, however, was not obeyed, for how could they
part with their old friend Jack?
The driver was right in his opinion of the new horse. He certainly
_was_ skittish, and before long a second accident came. This time the
order to get rid of Jack must be obeyed, and the question arose what to
do with him.
Mr. Ledwell being the kind of man to whom everybody in trouble
appealed, Reordan at once sought him and told him the story. “We can’t
have old Jack killed,” he said, “because he is one of us!”
“Of course you can’t,” replied Mr. Ledwell, “we must find a good home
for him.”
“You see, sir, Jack has been in the business so many years he wouldn’t
feel at home anywhere except in an engine-house, and if we gave him to
any other company the chief would find it out, and ’twould be just as
bad. I don’t see what we can do. The poor fellow would grieve himself
to death if he wasn’t in the Fire Department.”
“And so he shall be,” replied Mr. Ledwell, heartily. “There is an
engine in the town where I live in the summer, and I’ll write and ask
them to take Jack. They will be sure to do it.”
Reordan’s face brightened. “It would be very kind of you, sir, and just
like you. After Jack got used to it, he’d be sure to feel at home, and
the men couldn’t help liking him.”
“Of course they will,” replied Mr. Ledwell, “and we shall look after
him too. Sam will make it his special business to see that he is well
cared for.”
So Jack’s fate was settled, and, with a heart even sadder at parting
than were those of the firemen, he was taken to his new home. Boxer was
quite desperate in his grief, and wanted to make an assault on every
one at once and settle the matter in that way; but gentle-hearted Jack
accepted his fate with the same fortitude that had led him to follow
through the thickest of the fire the fortunes of the firemen he so
loved.