THE FIRE
Hiram did not take note of much till he was three blocks from the
restaurant. There was a dull pain somewhere within him, but when his
thinking apparatus began shaking off its stunned condition he found it
difficult to analyze this pain.
The girl had done practically nothing. In fact, but for her laughter,
her attitude toward the well-dressed man would have showed righteous
displeasure. The thought that this might be a common occurrence did
not enter his head. He was distressed now; he found, only with a keen
feeling of utter alienation, he was one lone backwoodsman against San
Francisco, scorning him, ready to trample him under foot.
A sign over the window of a store cleared this mystery. Hiram stopped
and stared up at it. In a flash he knew what was the matter with him,
and that he hated the stranger for his clothes--that he hated everybody
because this man wore good clothes. He squeezed his pocketbook and
read and reread the painted words in their painted circles:
"O'coat, $40, no more; Coat, $20, no more; Pants, $5, no more; Hat, $3,
no more."
His mind was adding twenty, five, and three. The total was
twenty-eight. He could get along without an overcoat, though in San
Francisco, even in summer, an overcoat is comfortable at night. Should
he or should he not? His rusty old clothes were torturing him.
Twenty-eight dollars! And perhaps only four or five more for extras--a
tie, collars, suspenders, and--oh, yes! shoes. He had forgotten the
shoes. His were brogans. He must have shoes, too. Perhaps five for
shoes. He had barely sixty-seven dollars. Should he? Was it foolish,
or----
Reflected in the show window he saw a drab automobile flash behind him.
At the wheel he saw, erect, forceful, jaunty, and well-dressed, with a
black cigar gripped in his teeth, the man who had snatched at Lucy's
hand. Clinching his pocketbook, Hiram entered the store.
A half hour later he came out, poorer by some thirty-eight dollars, but
rich in the self-esteem which the bright, stiff garments gave him.
He left his bundle in his stall at the lodging house, criticized
himself before the cracked mirror in the hall, and went down on the
street. He bought three five-cent cigars and lighted one. He gripped
it in his teeth and let it protrude from the left-hand corner of his
mouth. Then he started for the restaurant.
Long before he reached it panic was upon him. He had absolutely no
pretext on which to enter. It was then only ten-thirty, and he had
breakfasted at nine. To enter boldly and begin a conversation with
Lucy--which he had all along boastfully promised himself he would
do--he now knew to be the last thing on earth he would dare.
Besides, though the garments he wore were new and bright and stiff,
those two brief glimpses of his rival's clothes now tardily showed him
that there was a difference. His coat, for instance, seemed a bit
angular--there seemed to be corners he had not noticed in the store.
It did not snuggle down to his neck and shoulders just right. Hiram
thought that perhaps the linen collar was a trifle too large.
Thus criticizing, and walking slower and slower, he neared the
restaurant. Now it was impossible to take another step without coming
abreast of it. He stopped and looked in a jeweler's window next door.
He stood there fifteen minutes. Time and again he nerved himself up to
entering the restaurant, only to feel cold sweat break out on his
forehead as he lifted his foot. He would return to the lodging house,
change his clothes, and see her when he ate at noon. He would never
let her see him in those now hated new clothes. He had squandered
thirty-eight dollars for her, and he had only twenty-nine left.
Down the street from the heart of the city came a sudden clangor.
Vehicles were rushed close to the curbs. Up a side street a new jangle
of bells broke out. Never had Hiram seen a city fire, but at once he
knew that such was happening.
A hook-and-ladder company rattled past with clamor and gongs and
clatter of hoofbeats. People poured from the doors of buildings to
watch. Men rushed to the curb and looked after the firemen; the women
stood near the buildings, under the awnings, shading their eyes and
standing on tiptoes. Quickly the sidewalk filled. A chemical engine
passed, clouds of black smoke rolling in its wake. Across the street a
pillar of black smoke burst from a third-story window.
"It's across the street! Across the street!" shouted the crowd.
A hose cart rumbled up. The men on the curb grew frantic, yelling and
pointing to the smoke. The hose cart was stopped.
A little later the chief's automobile came. Then the apparatus that
had passed down the street came back. Flames and smoke were bursting
from three windows now. The street and the sidewalk were filled with
the crowd.
Hiram had not moved a muscle. People elbowed him on both sides, but he
paid no attention. The rapid operations of the fire fighters held him
spell-bound.
"Oo-oo-oo! Look there!" suddenly came a shrill familiar voice at his
side.
A sputter of sparks had shot from the roof of the building, and a man
had emerged from a trap-door, it seemed, and darted from sight. But
the fire and every new phase of it had lost all holding power over
Hiram Hooker. Pressed to his elbow, wedged in by the crowd, stood Lucy.
"Oh, I love a fire!" she was ecstatically informing some one on her
other side--a waitress.
Hiram stood there sick with her proximity. She had not recognized
him--she was engrossed with the clouds of black smoke, the intermittent
red gleam of blaze, and the crackling streams of water. Her tongue was
wagging rapidly, and she seemed not to care to whom she spoke or
whether that fortunate person were listening.
Suddenly, through the scurrying firemen in the street, a big red
automobile came slowly. It was filled with men and women. Its horn
was honking perpetually. Besides the fire apparatus, no other vehicles
were allowed in the street, yet no one seemed to interfere with this
machine.
"Oh, it's the Samax Company!" exclaimed Lucy, dancing up and down.
"They're going to take a fire picture. Look, Minnie! There's Mr.
Kenoke--the director! I never thought of it--right here at my very
door, too! If I only could see him, Minnie. What a chance for the
fire scene in 'The Crowning Defeat!' Oh, why didn't I think of it,
Minnie? Mr. Kenoke! Mr. Kenoke! Oh, dear, he wouldn't hear me in a
thousand years!"
She was waving over the heads of the crowd at some one in the red
automobile, it seemed. There seemed even less likelihood now of her
taking note of Hiram. He watched her furtively and wondered.
"Oh, I must see him!" she went on excitedly. "Say, mister"--she
suddenly turned a flushed face to Hiram--"won't you---- Why, hello!"
she broke off. "I didn't know it was you. Oh, you will, I know!
You're big--you can do it! Won't you try to get to that heavy-set man
in the machine for me? Please--won't you?"
She was looking eagerly up at him. Hiram rose to the situation like a
man. For her he felt he would have cheerfully entered a beehive should
she command him. Was not this the adventure girl of whom he had
dreamed?
"What'll I do?"
"Oh, will you? Good! Listen: Tell him to have Mr. Blair carry Miss
Worthington out the door. And listen: Miss Worthington has
fainted--see? Mr. Blair faints then, and staggers and falls down with
her. Then Mr. Speed rushes up and takes a letter from Mr. Blair's
pocket and runs out of the picture. And listen: Mr. Blair and Miss
Worthington still lie there. Tell him there's no makeup. And tell him
Miss Lucy Dalles wants him to do that, and that he won't regret it.
Tell him I said it was a peach--see? But listen: Don't say anything
about me being in a restaurant, though. Oh, can you? Will you?"
Hiram was stunned. Had the girl gone crazy?
"Go on, please, before the fire's out! I can't explain now--wait.
I'll tell you later. He'll know, though. Go on, now--try!"
Without the faintest notion of what it was all about--with only the
thrilling thought that he was serving her--Hiram's big figure began
pushing through the crowd, dazedly repeating her queer message and the
names.
He was tall, strong, and angular. Shoving this way and that, he fought
his way to the curb. Here he encountered a rope stretched lengthwise
of the street. The crowd was now confined to the sidewalk. Hiram
crawled under the rope. A policeman shouted at him and started toward
him. Hiram ran, tripped over a slippery hose, caught himself, and
plunged on through the knots of struggling, dripping firemen.
The automobile had stopped. The occupants were clambering to the wet
pavement. One man was hurriedly setting up a peculiar-shaped camera
directly opposite the entrance of the burning building. Another, a
heavy-set man, was bobbing about, shouting orders to men and women, who
listened, then ran toward the door.
Everybody was crazy, it seemed, but this had nothing to do with Hiram
in carrying out his mission. He ran up to this heavy-set man and cried:
"Are you Mr. Kenoke?"
"Sure! Get out the way! What d'ye want? Now, Miss Worthington, run
for the ladder. Hurry up, girlie! Come on, Blair! Quick! Quick!
What d'ye want--you?"
Hiram gulped and searched his brains. "Miss Lucy Dalles says to tell
you to have Mr. Blair carry Miss Worthington out of the door. She's
fainted, she said, and then he faints and falls. They lay there, and
another fella--I forget that name--takes a letter from Mr. Blair's
pocket and runs away. Mr. What's-his-name and Miss Worthington still
lie there. Mr.--er--let's see--there's no makeup. And it's a peach,
and you won't regret it."
"Humph! All right; I get you. I'll take a chance. Lucy Dalles, you
say? Thanks. Get that, Collins? 'Bout ten feet, I guess. After
this. Now, out of the way, please. All ready, there! Let her go!
Now, up with that ladder, deary! Get in there! Get in the picture
Worthington!"
Hiram stepped back. The man with the camera began turning a crank on
one side, and a low whirring noise blended softly with the roar of the
rushing water. Hiram saw dripping men and women dancing about like
maniacs before the smoking door.
He did not wait for more. He had done his duty, and he hurried back
for his reward.
"Did you do it? Did you see him?"
Lucy Dalles, with parted lips, was straining toward him as he cleaved
his way back to her.
Hiram nodded.
"Oh, what did he say?"
"He said: 'All right. I'll risk it.' He said a lot more, but I guess
it wasn't to me."
"Well, you're all right," she said, with a beaming smile. "D'ye hear,
Minnie? Mr. Kenoke's going to take it!"
Minnie, a freckle-faced girl, was busily chewing gum and watching the
spectacle. She indifferently replied, "Yea," and craned her neck away
to focus some new development in the fire fight.
Lucy at once ignored her.
"Say, that was great, all right! I'm much obliged, I'm sure. That'll
mean something to me." She was looking straight at Hiram. Now she
hesitated, then, a bit flustered, concluded, "That was all right."
Hiram grinned and bobbed his head.
She looked at him in confusion a little longer, then turned to Minnie.
"Goodness! I must get back in," she said hurriedly.
Still Minnie gave no heed, and Lucy faced Hiram once more.
"I said I'd tell you about it, didn't I? Well, I will--that is, if you
care?"
Hiram bobbed his head again.
She looked through the jeweler's window at a small brass clock.
"Gracious! Can that clock be right? It's after eleven! Say, listen:
I'm going off watch at twelve. If you'll be here I'll tell you then."
"Yes, ma'am--I'll be here."
"All right. Good-by. Much obliged, I'm sure."
She squeezed back of Minnie, and scampered through the restaurant door.
Hiram stood watching the streams of water--that is, he looked that way.