Oh, the unutterable horror that sweeps over him! To die thus: fettered, blinded, powerless to cry for aid! A frenzied madness courses through his veins.

Crackle, hiss, roar!

The flames rise and spread. The door of the closet has fallen in, and now he feels their hot breath. They are closing around him; he is suffocating. He tugs at his fetters with the strength of despair. All is in vain.

Hiss! hiss! hiss!

His brain reels. He is falling, falling, falling. There is a horrible sound in his ears; his eyes see hideous visions; his breath is strangled; he shudders convulsively, and resigns his hold upon life!

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

"A BRAND FROM THE BURNING."

There is a cry of alarm in the street below. The fire has broken through the roof, and so revealed itself to some late pa.s.ser-by.

"Fire! fire! fire!"

Soon the s.p.a.ce before the doomed building is swarming with people running, vociferating, cursing, jesting. Drunken men are there, haggard women, dirty, ragged children, who clap their hands and shout excitedly at this splendid spectacle.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The flames rise and spread; the door of the closet has fallen in, and now he feels their hot breath."--page 234.]

It is useless to attempt to save the old tenement; they realize that.

But its occupants--They have heard the alarm, and they come out hurriedly, _en deshabille_, pushing and dragging the children, screaming, and cursing each other and the world.

All on the lower floor are then safe. But the upper floor, and its occupants?

"Fire! fire! fire!"

No signs of life above stairs. No terrified faces at the windows. No flying forms down the rickety stairway. No cries for help from among the fast-spreading flames.

"Fire! fire! fire!"

They hear the tinkle of bells, the gallop of speeding hoofs upon the pavement.

"Ah!" cries an on-looker, "the fire boys are coming!"

"Too late, they are," growls another; "too late, as usual."

The engine approaches; and from the opposite direction comes a man, running swiftly, panting heavily, almost breathless.

The roof is all ablaze now; in a moment the rafters will have fallen in.

The panting new-comer stops suddenly before the door of the burning tenement, and glances sharply about. Near him is a half-dazed woman who has rushed to the rescue, as frightened women will, with a pail of water in her unsteady hand. The man leaps toward her, seizes the pail, dashes its contents over his head and shoulders, and plunging through the doorway, disappears up the stairs.

"Stop! Come back!"

"What a fool!"

"That's the end of _him_!"

The on-lookers shout and scream. Exclamations, remonstrance, pity, ridicule--all find voice, and are all lost upon the daring adventurer among the flames.

The engine rushes up; the firemen spring to their work: useless effort.

n.o.body thinks of them, or what they do; all eyes are on the blazing upper story, all thoughts for the man who is braving the flames.

A crash from aloft; a cry from the mult.i.tude. The roof is falling in, and the gallant rescuer--ah! he is doomed.

But no; a form comes reeling out from among the smoke and fire tongues, comes staggering and swaying beneath a burden which is almost too much for his strength.

Then a triumphant yell rises from the mult.i.tude. They seize upon rescued and rescuer, and bear them away from the heat and danger. How they scream and crowd; how they elbow and curse; how they exclaim, as they bend over these two refugees from a fiery death!

The rescuer has sunk upon the ground, half suffocated and almost insensible; but all eyes are fixed upon the rescued, for he is bound, gagged and blindfolded!

What is he? Who is he? Why is he thus? They are filled with curiosity; here is a mystery to solve. For the moment the gallant rescuer is forgotten, or only remembered as they seek to avoid trampling upon him in their eagerness to obtain a view of the greater curiosity.

They tear off the fetters of the late prisoner. They wrest the bandage from his eyes. They remove the gag from his mouth. Then curiosity receives a fresh stimulus; exclamations break out anew.

"It's a n.i.g.g.e.r!"

"No; look here!"

"h.e.l.lo, he's been playin' moke!"

"He's been blacked!"

"Look at his clothes, boys."

"Jerusalem! he's been robbed."

Then they begin their efforts to bring him to his senses; partly for humanity's sake, quite as much that they may gratify their curiosity.

"He's dead, I reckon."

"No; only smothered."

"Stand back there; give us air."

"Let's have some water."

"No, brandy."

"Look; he's coming to."

He is "coming to". He shudders convulsively, gropes about with his hands and feebly raises his head. Then respiration becomes freer; he draws in a deep breath, sits up and looks about him. He is bewildered at first; then memory rea.s.serts herself. He sees the now almost-demolished tenement, the crowd of eager faces, and notes the fact that he is free, unfettered. He rises to his feet, and unmindful of the questions eagerly poured upon him, gazes slowly about him.