Jack, the Fire Dog. Wesselhoeft Lily F.

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      “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 captain.

      “The work sha’n’t suffer,” replied Reordan. “A chap of his age, and blind at that, that has looked after himself, won’t need much tending, and the little he’ll need to eat won’t lighten my pocket much.”

      “Well, then, keep him for a day or so if you like, I’ve no objections,” replied the captain. “Here’s something toward his keep;” and he placed a bill in Reordan’s hand.

      “We’ll all chip in,” said another. “Here, Jack, pass around the hat for the blind kid.”

      The Fire-Dog took the hat in his mouth with great alacrity, and gravely went from one to another of the men, each one of whom put in some change.

      “Reordan shall be treasurer of the blind kid’s fund,” said one.

      “There’s enough already to buy more than he can eat in a week,” replied Reordan, shaking up the hat to enjoy the jingling sound of the coins.

      “Please will you show me where I can wash?” asked a gentle voice; and there stood the blind kid, who had approached unnoticed. “If you will show me once, I can find it for myself afterwards.”

      “Here you are, young man,” replied Reordan, leading him to the sink where the men washed. “Here’s the water-faucet, and here’s the soap; and while you’re making your toilet I’ll step out and fetch your breakfast.”

      “Why not take him along with us?” asked one of the men.

      “He isn’t in just the rig for a cold morning,” replied Reordan. “The looks of the thing, to say nothing of his own feelings, goes against it. Wait till he has a hat and coat. I’ll fetch his breakfast, and while he’s eating it we’ll go for ours.”

      “And when we come back we’ll hear his story, and see what account he has to give of himself,” said another.

      The boy made himself quite tidy, considering the poor clothes he had on; and the men, after seating him at the table with a good breakfast before him, went out for theirs.

      How good it did taste to the poor little waif! Only hot coffee and buttered rolls, but it was a feast for the poor child, who for several weeks had eaten his meals whenever he could get them, and little enough at that.

      As the boy sat contentedly eating his breakfast, a slight sound near his feet attracted his attention. “Is that you, Jack?” he quickly asked.

      Jack replied by licking his hand and pressing closely to his side.

      “Dear Jack!” said the blind boy, fondly laying his cheek upon the faithful dog’s head. “If you hadn’t nestled so closely to me last night and kept me warm, I believe I should have frozen to death. Here, you shall have part of my breakfast, I don’t need it all;” and he offered the Fire-Dog a generous piece of his buttered roll.

      Jack took the offering very reluctantly, as if he would have preferred to have the blind boy eat it himself, but accepted it in order not to hurt his new friend’s feelings.

      “You eat so slowly, I don’t believe it tastes so good to you as it does to me, Jack,” said the blind boy, as Jack slowly chewed the soft roll, “and it has butter on it too. I should think you would like that.”

      Jack was trying hard to dispose of a mouthful his kind little friend had just given him when the firemen returned from their breakfast. In fact, Jack did like the bread, but he thought he ought not to take the blind boy’s breakfast. He looked really ashamed of himself when the men entered and Reordan remarked,—

      “Why, you mustn’t give your breakfast away to Jack, young chap, you must eat it yourself. We’ve brought him some leavings from the place where we take our meals, that he likes a great deal better than what you’ve got. Aren’t you hungry, kid? Don’t you like your breakfast?”

      “Yes, indeed,” replied the boy, quickly. “It tastes splendid; but Jack was so good to me last night that I wanted to give him some of it.”

      “Don’t you worry about him, Sonny,” replied one of the men. “We’ll look out for Jack all right;” and he opened a package of bones and scraps of meat which he set before Jack.

      “Now, if you’ve had all you want to eat,” said the captain, who just then entered, “suppose you give an account of yourself.”

      “Yes, sir,” replied the boy.

      “Well,” said the captain, after waiting a moment in vain for the boy to begin his story. “Where do you come from, and what’s your name? Haven’t you got any father and mother?”

      “My name is William,” replied the boy, “William Blake. I haven’t got any father. He used to go to sea, and his ship got lost and they were all drowned.”

      “Haven’t you got any mother?” asked the captain.

      The boy hesitated a moment. Then his lips began to tremble with emotion, and after making several attempts to answer, he put his hands before his sightless eyes and burst into violent weeping.

      The tender-hearted men were overcome at the sight of the child’s grief. He tried to stifle the sobs that shook his slender frame, but his grief was too great for him to master. The brave men who never hesitated to enter a burning building to rescue those who were in danger, who never thought of their own lives when those of others were menaced, broke down to see a little blind boy crying for his mother.

      “Is your mother dead too?” asked the captain in a low voice, a great contrast to his usual hearty tones.

      “No, I don’t think she is. I don’t know,” sobbed the boy.

      “Don’t you know where she is?” asked the captain, gently.

      “No, sir,” replied the boy, trying hard to speak distinctly. “She fell down, and she couldn’t speak to me nor move, and then they carried her off in a wagon.”

      “Don’t you know where they took her?”

      “No, sir, they didn’t say anything about it.”

      “Wasn’t there any one to look after you?”

      “No, sir. There wasn’t any one who knew me.”

      “What did you СКАЧАТЬ