The Firebug Read online

  CHAPTER II A THRILLING RESCUE

  It was a dramatic moment, such a moment as comes at times to the lives offiremen. Had the building been a tenement it would have been searchedfrom cellar to garret; had it even been a business block, little lessthan this would have been done. But a school house! Who would havesuspected it of housing a child at midnight?

  Others in the throng had seen the child and now great shouts came up fromthe crowd that surged the line.

  Coolly, methodically, as is the manner of those whose business it is tosave lives, the firemen backed a ladder truck into position. After aspeedy measurement with his eye, the Chief marked a spot sixteen feetfrom the building, and there the base of the ladder came to rest. Then,up, up, up, as if by magic, the ladder ascended in air. Not touching thebuilding, but ever mounting, it reached the level of the third floor, thefourth floor, the fifth. A mighty shout arose when it came to the levelof the window where the child, leaning far out, waved her slender arms inmute petition.

  As yet the ladder was far out beyond her reach. A fireman must climb theladder to bring her down. Johnny Thompson was no player to thegrandstand, but a sudden thought had struck him and the next second hadset him into action.

  "If I go up--if I save her," he thought to himself as he dashed for theladder, "she will think of me as her friend. She'll tell me all."

  "Here!" he exclaimed, reaching out a hand for the truck as the Chief wasabout to detail a man, "Let me go up."

  Had the Chief not known Johnny so well; had he not realized that the boyhad lived all his life in such a manner as would fit himself for a momentlike this; lived clean, grasped every opportunity for practice that makesa fellow active and physically fit, he would have pushed him aside--thiswas no moment for playing. But now, knowing Johnny as he did, he onlyrumbled:

  "All right, Johnny."

  The next moment, agile as a monkey ascending the side of his cage, Johnnywas leaping upward.

  Through his mind, as he climbed, passed many shadowy questions. Was theladder set right? Would it fall to position, or would it buckle to sendhim crashing to the pavement? Such a thing had happened; might happennow. Still he climbed. The slender reed-like ladder swayed as he climbed.

  One story was passed, another, another, and yet another. Who was thisgirl? How had she come to be on the top floor of the school at such atime? Had she set the fire and then, frightened at her deed, fled to aplace of hiding?

  The ladder swayed more and more. Then, just as he reached the level ofthe fifth floor it swung slowly in and came to rest against the sixthfloor window ledge.

  "Oh! Ah!" Johnny sighed.

  Less than a moment after that, with one arm about the child's slenderwaist and with her arms about his neck, he found himself descending. Farbelow the crowd was shouting mad approval.

  "Listen, little girl," he said, talking in the girl's ear that he mightbe heard above the hubub of the street, "where do you live?"

  The child started, then stared up at the burning schoolhouse as if tosay: "That's my home."

  What she said was: "Not anywhere."

  "No home?" Johnny said in astonishment.

  The girl nodded.

  Johnny was nonplussed. Here was a new mystery, and there was no time tosolve it. At last he was at the base of the ladder.

  "Here, Tom," he said to a stalwart fireman who sat at the wheel of thetruck, "take care of this child. Don't let her get out of your sight. Shemay be a valuable witness. I'll be back soon. I want to look for--for aman."

  He dropped to the street where glowing and sputtering bits of woodfloated on rivers of water.

  The girl's attention was instantly caught by a strange creature thatrested on the fireman's shoulder--a large monkey.

  "That's Jerry," smiled Tom. "He's our mascot. Came to us of his own freewill. Tenement burned on the near west side. After everybody was out an'the walls was totterin' Jerry comes scamperin' down a drain pipe, hoppedon my shoulder, and he's been there lot of times since. Nobody's everclaimed him. He's been with us three years, so I guess nobody ever willclaim him."

  Sensing that the conversation was about him, the monkey evidently decidedto show off a bit. Leaping from Tom's shoulder, he made the toweringladder at a bound and was half way up before the child could let out herfirst scream of delight. Then, as the ladder began to double in uponitself, he raced down again, to at last make one mighty leap and landsquarely in the girl's lap.

  In the meantime Johnny was fighting his way through the throng toward thestore where he had seen the pink-eyed man.

  The crowd was increasing. He made his way through it with greatdifficulty. Then, just as he reached the outer edge of it, there came acry:

  "Back! Back!"

  Wedged in between a fat Jewish woman with a shawl over her head and adark Italian with a bundle on his back, Johnny found himself carriedbackward, still backward, then to one side until a passage had been made.

  Through this passage, like a young queen in a pageant, the girl he hadrescued rode atop the truck. And by her side, important as a footman,rode Jerry, the monkey.

  Hardly had the truck moved to a place of safety than again came the cry:

  "Back! Back!"

  Once more the crowd surged away from the fire. High time it was, too, forthe brick walls, trembling like a tree before its fall, threatened totopple over and crush them.

  For a long moment it stood tottering, then instead of pitching headlonginto the street, it crumbled down like a melting mass of waxen blocks.

  A wail rose from the crowd. Their school was gone. This was followedalmost at once by a shout of joy. Their homes were saved, for were not ascore of nozzles playing upon the crumbled, red-hot mass, reducing it toblackness and ashes?

  Such was the burning of the Shelby School. Who had set this fire? Wherewas he now? These were Johnny Thompson's problems. Unless they werespeedily solved there was reason to believe that within a month, perhapswithin a week, or even a day, other public buildings would be burned to aheap of smouldering ruins. Who was this firebug? What could his motivesbe?

  He thought of the pink-eyed man and of that expression he had surprisedon his face. He fought his way back to the store in which he had seen theman. The store was dark, the door locked.

  "No use;" he told himself, "couldn't find him in this crowd. Probablynever see him again. Probably nothing to it, anyway. Some people are soconstituted that they just naturally enjoy a catastrophe. They'd smile atthe burning of their own home. Nero fiddled while Rome burned."

  In this he was partly wrong. He was destined to see this pink-eyed managain, again, and yet again; and always under the most unusualcircumstances.

  But now his thoughts turned to the child. She had said she had no home.How could that be? What did she know about the fire? Had she been in thebuilding at the time it was set? That seemed probable. Could she answerimportant questions? That seemed probable, too. He must question her; notnow, not here, but in some quiet place. She needed rest and probably foodas well. Where should he take her? He had no relatives in the city. Hisown room would not do. The fire station would be too public and thelittle girl would be too greatly alarmed to talk well there.

  "Mazie," he thought to himself, "Mazie will take us in."

  Ten minutes later, he and the girl were speeding toward the home ofMazie, the girl pal of Johnny's boyhood days.

  It was a very much surprised Mazie who at last answered Johnny's repeatedringing of her bell, but when she saw it was Johnny who called she atonce invited him to join her in the kitchen, the proper place toentertain a friend who calls at three in the morning in a grimy fireman'suniform.

  Mazie was a plump young lady. The bloom on her cheeks was as natural asthe brown of her abundant hair. A sincere, honest, healthy girl shewas--just the kind to be pal to a boy like Johnny.

  "Mazie," said Johnny as he entered the kitchen and sat down to watch herlight the gas, "this is a little girl I found. I have a
notion she'shungry--are you?" he turned to the girl.

  The girl nodded her head.

  "What's your name?"

  "Tillie McFadden."

  It was a strange story that Tillie McFadden told over Mazie's cold lunchand steaming cocoa. She truly had no home. Weeks before--she did not nowhow many--her mother had died. Neighbors had come in. They had talked ofan orphan asylum for her. She had not known quite what that was, but ithad frightened her. She ran away. A corner newstand man had allowed herto sell papers for him. With these few pennies she had bought food. Forthree nights she had slept on a bed of shavings in a barrel back of acrockery store.

  Then, while prowling round a school house at night, she had discovered abasement window with a broken catch. She had climbed in and, having madeher way to the upper story which was used as a gymnasium, had slept onwrestling mats. Since this was better than the barrel, like some straykitten that has found its way out of the dark and the cold, she had madeher home there.

  "And now," she exclaimed, her eyes growing suddenly wide with excitement,"it's all burned up!"

  "What time did you go to sleep to-night?" Johnny asked.

  "I--I think I heard the tower clock strike eleven."

  "And were you up there all the time?"

  "No, down in the office mostly."

  "The office?" Johnny leaned forward eagerly. That was where the fire hadstarted.

  "Yes."

  "What were you doing in the office?"

  "Looking at picture books. Lots of them down there, and I could read bythe light from the street lamp."

  "But didn't you hear any sound; smell smoke or anything?"

  "N--o," the girl cast upon him a look of puzzled eagerness. It was plainthat she wished to help all she could.

  Further questioning revealed the fact that she had nothing more ofimportance to tell. The sound of fire gongs and sirens had wakened her.She had gone to the window to look down. Then, realizing her peril, shehad dashed for the head of the stairs, only to find her way cut off byflames and smoke. She had returned to the window. The rest Johnny knew aswell as she.

  After the child had been put to sleep on a couch in the living room,Johnny and Mazie sat long by the kitchen table, talking. Johnny told ofhis new task and of his hopes of capturing the firebug.

  "Of course," he said, "the police and fire inspectors are working on it.They'll probably solve the mystery first. I hope they solve it to-morrow.No one wants the city's buildings burned and lives endangered by fire.But," he sighed, "I'd like to be the lucky fellow."

  "I wish you might," said Mazie loyally. "I--I wish I could help you. Oh,Johnny, can't I? Couldn't I come down and stay awhile in that strangecentral station where all the alarms come in? It must be fairlybewitching."

  "I guess there'd be no objection to that," said Johnny thoughtfully. "Asfor your helping me, I'll welcome all the help I can get. Looks like Iwas going to need it. Didn't get a clue except--well, there was thepink-eyed man."

  "The pink-eyed man?" Mazie exclaimed in amazement. "Who was he?"

  Johnny told her about the man in the store. "Probably not much to it," headded at the end.

  "But, Johnny," said Mazie suddenly, "if Tillie was in the office untilnearly eleven o'clock, how could the fire, which started near the office,have gotten going so strong before the firemen arrived? It takes sometime to start a big blaze, doesn't it?"

  "Yes, it must," answered Johnny thoughtfully. "Doesn't seem that thefirebug could have accomplished it in an hour. It might have been--" hepaused to consider--"it might have been set by a mechanism such as issometimes used on a time bomb, but how could it have been gotten induring the day? Tell you what!" he exclaimed, "I'll go back there as soonas the fire cools and look about in the ruins. That side of the wall felloutward. If a mechanism was used, its remains should still be there. Imay discover something."

  He did go and he did discover something. At the time of this discoverythe thing appeared insignificant, but Johnny's motto was, "You never cantell," and so he filed it away in his memory.

  Mazie did go down to the central alarm station on the very next night,and that night there came in over the wires the thrilling third alarm.