Jack, the Fire Dog. Wesselhoeft Lily F.
of you has left this child behind?” he sternly asks, looking at the different family groups crowded together, vainly trying to keep warm. “Whose is he?”
They are silent, and after waiting in vain for an answer he continues,—
“If you can’t answer, there are those who will know how to make you. You can’t leave a child shut up like that in an out-of-the-way room without being called to account.”
“Why, it’s the blind kid!” exclaims one of the men. “I forgot all about him.”
“People are not apt to forget their children at such a time,” replies the fireman, looking about him at the children who are crowding around their mothers. “This case shall be looked into.”
“He doesn’t belong to any of us,” replies the man.
“How came he to be shut up in that hole under the stairs, then?” asks the fireman. “If it hadn’t been for the dog, he’d have been dead by this time.”
“He followed some of the children home,” replies the man, “and has been sleeping there for a few nights. I don’t know anything about him. I forgot he was there, or I’d have looked out for him.”
The cold air seems to revive the child, for he stirs and moans.
“It’s the smoke,” says the fireman. “You are all right now, ain’t you, young chap?”
“Yes,” replies the boy in a faint voice, but he makes no attempt to rise to his feet.
“I’ll fix you up in good shape,” replies the fireman, carrying him toward the engine. A wagon with blankets for the horses stands near by, and a few are still left. One of these the fireman wraps about the boy, and lays him on the floor of the wagon.
“Watch him, Jack!” he says to the Fire-Dog; and in an instant he is back in the tenement-house to join his company on the roof and help them fight the fire.
Faithful Jack cast a longing glance after the fireman’s retreating figure, for it was the first time he had failed to follow at his heels; then with a deep sigh he turned to the duty before him. With one bound to the shaft of the wagon and another to the seat, he jumped down beside the still form rolled up in the blanket.
Jack had heard the conversation between the fireman and the man from the tenement-house, and he understood that this was a child without friends or home, and with another sigh of disappointment he crept up to the little figure that lay so still in the bottom of the wagon. The blanket was drawn over the boy’s head, but Jack pushed his nose in to see whether the little fellow were alive, he lay so quietly. He found he was alive, though, for he started when Jack’s nose touched his face. He felt very cold, and the Fire-Dog crept closer still and lay beside him, hoping to add some warmth to the cold little figure.
For a time the two lay silently there, Jack keeping his intelligent eyes open to everything that went on. He shivered with the cold, but still kept his post. The horses stood with heads drooping and tails hugged closely to them, and the deep, loud thuds of the working engines stationed near the burning building seemed echoed by those at work farther off. After a while the glare and showers of sparks ceased, and dark volumes of smoke rose in their stead. Then the Fire-Dog knew that the fire was out, and that Engine 33’s men would before long be released. The engines still played upon the smouldering embers, however, and it was some time before he was relieved.
They took the boy with them to the engine-house, for they knew that the homeless tenants of the empty house could not take care of him, even if they had been inclined. He could stay at the engine-house that night, they decided, and in the morning they would hand him over to the public charities. So he was wrapped up well and brought home in the wagon, while Jack ran along by the side of the engine. Jack always started out, as we have seen, bounding and circling in front of the horses, but he came home sedately. The excitement was over, and he was as tired as the men were.
They brought the boy into the engine-house and carried him up to the warm room where we first made Jack’s acquaintance. He was placed in a chair and the blanket taken off.
“Now let’s see what you look like,” said the fresh-faced young man who had rescued him. “How are you now?”
“I’m all right,” replied the boy.
“Well, that’s hearty,” said the man.
He did not look hearty, though. His face was very pale and thin, and he did not look about him as children do who have the use of their eyes.
“Can’t you see anything at all? Can you see me?” asked the young man.
“I can see a little mite of light if the lamps are lighted and if the sun shines very bright,” replied the boy.
“I suppose you are hungry, aren’t you?”
“Not very,” replied the boy.
“When did you eat last? What did you have for supper?”
“I didn’t have any,” replied the boy.
“Well, what did you have for dinner, then?”
“I didn’t have any dinner, either.”
“Didn’t have any dinner, either?” repeated the young fireman. “When did you eat last, for goodness’ sake?”
“Some of the children in the house brought me some of their breakfast. They were very kind to me.”
“Well, that beats the Dutch!” exclaimed the young man. “You sit right there till I come back!” and he rushed out of the room as speedily as he answered the summons of the big gong below. In a short time he was back with his arms full of packages which he proceeded to open hastily. In one were sandwiches of thick rolls with pieces of ham in between, in another a loaf of bread, some butter in another, and a small can of milk in another. These he proceeded to place on a small table which he drew up before the blind boy.
“There, begin on that,” he said, placing one of the sandwiches in the boy’s hands.
“Thank you, sir,” said the boy; “you are very good.”
“You needn’t call me sir,” replied the young man; “my name is Reordan.”
“You don’t intend to have the kid eat all that stuff, do you, Reordan?” asked one of the other firemen.
“Why, he hasn’t eaten anything since morning, and this such a cold day,” replied Reordan.
“That’s no reason why you should kill him. He ought to come around to it gradually. That’s the way they do when people are starved.”
So the boy was given another sandwich followed by a glass of milk, and the firemen and Jack made a lunch off the rest. Then a bed was made up for the boy in a snug corner, and he was covered with plenty of warm clothing. He was so comfortable, from the warm air of the room and the hearty meal, that it was not many minutes before he was in a deep sleep. The Fire-Dog seated himself near by and watched him earnestly.
“I’d give a good deal to know what Jack is thinking about,” said one of the men.
“He’s probably thinking over what’s best to do for the kid, and will settle it in his mind before he goes to bed himself,” replied Reordan.
Jack responded by an appreciative glance and a wag of his tail, that said as plainly as words could have done,—
“That is just it!”
CHAPTER SECOND
THE next morning when the firemen were up and dressed, the blind boy was still asleep. He looked even paler by daylight than he had the night before, and his thin cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes gave him a pathetic look.
“It would be a pity to send the blind kid off while he looks like that. Let’s put some flesh on his bones and some color into his cheeks first,” said soft-hearted Reordan.
“How do you propose to manage? Taking care of kids and running fire-engines don’t go very well together,” said the