A LUCKY RESCUE
THERE was no time lost in reaching shore. Gerald and Mr. Crane jumped
from the boat and ran to the house. It was a large, handsome house, and
presumably the home of a rich man. Most of the houses in Portville were
of two stories, but this consisted of three. Alonzo opened the front
door, followed closely by Gerald.
In the hall was a maid-servant, who was wringing her hands.
"Where is the fire?" asked Gerald.
"On the third floor. Poor Mr. Nugent——"
"Well, where is he?"
"In the room where the fire broke out. He is in a faint. He will be
suffocated!"
Alonzo Crane was captain of the fire company in Hillsdale, and had all
his wits about him.
"Follow me, Gerald," he said, as he dashed up-stairs.
He attempted to open the door of the room from the windows of which he
had seen the smoke pouring, but Mr. Nugent's body was lying on the floor
in such a position as to prevent the door being opened. But the two, by
pushing forcibly, succeeded in getting it open. The muslin curtains of
the front windows were in a blaze, and the flames had spread to the
neighboring woodwork.
"Tear down the curtains, Gerald," said Mr. Crane. "You will soon have
help. I hear the engine outside. I will attend to the old gentleman."
With the strength which might naturally be expected from a blacksmith,
he took up the old man in his arms, and carried him down-stairs. It was
none too soon. Mr. Nugent was in a faint, and was half-suffocated by the
smoke. On his way Alonzo met some of the Portville firemen, whom he
directed to the room. Taking the old gentleman down-stairs he laid him
on a couch in the sitting-room and summoned the servant.
"Bring me a sponge and some cold water," he said.
They were brought.
He bathed the face of the old man, who presently opened his eyes and
said, feebly: "Where am I?"
"You're in the land of the living, squire," answered Crane; "but you
wouldn't have been long if I hadn't taken you out of the burning room.
Do you know how the fire started?"
"It was my fault," said Mr. Nugent, feebly. "I was lighting my pipe,
when I began to feel sick. The match must have ignited the curtains. I
staggered to the door, but could go no farther. I sank to the floor, and
I remember no more. Is the fire still burning?" he asked, anxiously.
"The firemen are here, and it will soon be out. Here is some one who
will tell us."
At this point Gerald entered the room.
"Is the fire out?" asked Alonzo.
"It soon will be. The firemen are busy in the room."
"I—I wish there were a doctor here. I feel overcome!"
"I will call one immediately," said Gerald.
He left the room quickly, and soon returned with Dr. Barlow, the village
physician.
"Well, Nugent," he said, "have you been trying to burn yourself up?"
"Not trying, but I nearly succeeded."
The doctor by a few simple remedies soon relieved his patient. Then he
asked: "Who discovered the fire?"
"Mr. Crane and I saw it from the lake?" answered Gerald. "We got here as
quickly as possible, and found Mr. Nugent lying helpless on the floor of
his room."
"He must have been nearly suffocated. In all probability had you been
less prompt he would have died."
"To whom am I indebted for my rescue?" asked the old gentleman. "The boy
I know—it is Gerald Lane—but this gentleman is a stranger to me."
"He is the brother of my stepmother," said Gerald.
"I am deeply indebted to you both. I am not able to make proper
acknowledgment now, but will you both come over this evening, when I
shall be better?"
"I shall be glad to come, squire," said the blacksmith; "Gerald will
come too."
"Who is this Mr. Nugent?" asked Mr. Crane, when they reached the street.
"He has lived in Portville for some years, but not much is known of him,
except that he has the reputation of being very rich."
"Did your father know him?"
"As well as any one in the village. I think he consulted father about
his affairs occasionally."
"Well, the old gentleman came near passing in his checks this afternoon.
He don't look very rugged. How old is he?"
"Sixty or more, I should think."
"How does he pass his time?"
"He has a large library and is very fond of reading. He takes many
magazines and papers."
"That's easier than bein' a blacksmith, Gerald."
"Would you be willing to pass your time in the same way, Mr. Crane?"
"I reckon not. I ain't very fond of readin'. It makes me sleepy."
"Probably he would not care to be a blacksmith."
Alonzo Crane laughed at the idea.
"I wouldn't give him twenty-five cents a day for his work," he said.
When they reached the house they found that Abel and his mother had
returned. In half an hour supper was served.
"How did you pass the time, Alonzo?" asked his sister.
"I went out rowing with Gerald. Then I took a hand at puttin' out a
fire."
"Where was it?"
"It was John Nugent's house," said Gerald.
"How did it catch fire? Was much damage done?"
These questions were answered partly by Gerald, partly by the
blacksmith.
"I don't know Mr. Nugent," said Mrs. Lane. "He doesn't go anywhere. Mr.
Lane visited him occasionally. He has very few visitors."
"He will have two this evening."
Mrs. Lane looked an inquiry.
"He has invited Gerald and me to call upon him?" explained the
blacksmith.
Mrs. Lane looked surprised.
"That is something unusual," she said.
"Mr. Crane probably saved his life," said Gerald.
"Oh, I don't know," said Alonzo, modestly. "You see I am used to bein'
at fires. I am captain of the Hillsdale fire company," he added, with an
intonation of pride.
"I wouldn't want to be a fireman," said Abel.
"Why not?"
"Firemen are low."
"You won't think so if you are ever in a burning house, Abel."
"They are a very useful class of people," said Mrs. Lane.
"You wouldn't want me to be a fireman, ma, would you?"
"No, perhaps not."
"You might be something a great deal worse, nephew," said the
blacksmith.
"Has Mr. Nugent no family?" asked Mr. Crane.
"He has a grandson about my age, but he is at a boarding-school
somewhere," answered Gerald.
About half-past seven Gerald rang the bell at Mr. Nugent's residence.
The door was opened by the servant-maid whom they had seen in the
afternoon.
"Come in," she said, without waiting for them to speak. "The master is
up-stairs in the library."
"I haven't got any library in my house, Gerald," said the blacksmith,
jocosely. "I hope he won't tackle me on books."
They found Mr. Nugent sitting in a large easy-chair beside the library
table.
"I am glad to see you both," he said, cordially, offering his hand. "Our
acquaintance has been formed under circumstances very favorable to
myself. I am very much indebted to you, Mr. Crane."
"Oh, it ain't worth talkin' about, squire," said the blacksmith.
"You seem to set a small value on my life, Mr. Crane," said the old
gentleman, smiling.
"Oh, I don't mean that."
"I understand. You are only showing your modesty. Now let me tell you
why I have invited you here. You have placed me under a great
obligation. Now can I do anything for you?"
Alonzo's face lighted up with a sudden idea. But he did not quite like
to express it.
"I wouldn't like to trouble you, Mr. Nugent," he said.
"Then there is something. Let me know what it is?"
"Well, the fact is, squire, I came to Portville to ask my sister—that's
Mrs. Lane—if she would lend me two hundred dollars to rebuild my shop
that was badly injured by fire last week, but she says she can't do it."
"How much money do you require, Mr. Crane?"
"I think I could manage on two hundred dollars."
"What is your given name?" asked Mr. Nugent, drawing a check-book from a
desk on the table.
"Alonzo Crane is what people call me in our village."
John Nugent took the pen and filled out a check, which he passed over to
the blacksmith.
"Three hundred dollars!" ejaculated Alonzo in amazement.
"Yes; if that isn't enough, let me know."
"It'll set me on my feet," said Mr. Crane, his plain face shining with
delight. "I'll pay it back as soon as I can, squire."
"Quite unnecessary, Mr. Crane," said the old gentleman, with a pleasant
smile. "I consider your service quite worth three hundred dollars."
The blacksmith tried to thank Mr. Nugent, but the old gentleman
prevented him by turning to Gerald.
"How soon are you going to college, Gerald?" he asked.
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