30. CHAPTER THIRTIETH.
THE BRAVERY OF THE PREACHER.
Our narrative once more retraces its steps,
and resumes the adventures of the other characters
of this history.
“They're bringin' a ladder! Look! Look!
They're bringin' a ladder! Don't you see
'em!”
Wild with fright, the Preacher bent from the
window. Reaching forth his arms he surveyed
the thousand faces which were upraised in the
glare of the blazing house.
Fanny by his side, in her gay attire, with
her hands joined and her black hair floating
over his shoulders, fixed her gaze upon a single
form in the crowd, whom her eye singled out
among a thousand.
Poor Ralph! While the engines worked
by sturdy arms were playing upon the roof,
while the smoke and flame rolling into the sky
together, alternately illumined and darkened
the scene, he stood on the edge of the pavement
half naked and barefoot, with his eyes
raised to the window in the third story.
He had secured a plug for the Fairy, and
now leaving the Fairy Boys to work the
engine, he leaned against a tree-box and made
his voice heard above the clamor of the crowd:
“Durn my riggin! There's a gal up yander!
A live gal! Why don't you fetch a ladder!
And a man too! Moses! — how he shakes
his neck and wriggles his hands!”
Presently a ladder was brought, and after
much hoarse shouting and rugged motion, it
was raised and placed against the window in
the third story.
“Save the gal!” shouted twenty rough
voices, and twenty fellows in scarlet shirts
leaped to the ladder with one bound.
But Ralph was before them. No sooner
had the top of the ladder touched the window
sill than his naked feet were upon its rounds,
and his hardy visage lifted upward, and reddened
by the glare, gazed with its large grey
eyes, upon the face of the woman far above,
as he ascended with the agility of a monkey
in search of cocoa-nuts.
“Go it Jonesey!” shouted a score of voices
— “Save the gal or bust yer b'iler!”
Fanny gazing from the window beheld her
brother's face as he rapidly ascended. Peter
when he left the room, had closed the door —
whether by design or accident we cannot tell
— and for a while, the place was free from
smoke, although the flames from the wing of
the mansion, were every instant rolling nearer
to the main building. She breathed freely,
but the uproar, the sky reddened with flame,
the echo of falling timber, and the shouts from
the thronged street, filled her with a terror
that can be readily imagined.
But Ralph was coming — he was half way
up the ladder — he would save her. Fanny
uttered a loud shriek of joy.
The Preacher darting into the shadows,
secured some articles which he took from his
trunk within his white vest, and placed the
MSS. of his life, entitled “Memoirs of a
Preacher,” in the pocket of his dressing
gown. Darting to the light again, insane with
terror and incapable of thinking of anything
but the safety of his precious life, he began to
creep from the window. His feet touched the
rounds of the ladder. Turning his face, distorted
by his panic, over his shoulder he began
to descend.
“You are not going to leave me?” cried
Fanny.
He did not seem to hear her; but a thousand
eyes uplifted from the street, beheld this illustration
of his gallantry and courage. Beheld
the Preacher descending, while the face of the
girl looked from the window.
But Ralph was rapidly ascending. In a
moment after the Preacher left the window
Ralph's hand encountered his right foot.
“Go back you cuss,” he shouted, pinching
the Preacher in the calf of his leg — “Into the
winder agin, or I'll chuck you overboard.”
“Don't! Don't!” cried Jervis — “Let me
go. The house is on fire —”
“O' cou'se it is” answered Ralph, converting
his head into a battering ram, and urging
the Preacher upward again — “Keep movin'
my superfine feller! My name's Jonesey and
I al'ays goes in for burnin' a chap like you,
into small pieces. Will you get into the winder
or shall I chuck you over?”
The Preacher looked below — his fears increased
the distance between himself and the
pavement — he began to grow dizzy.
But Ralph, conscious that the eyes of the
Fairy Boys were upon him, propelled the
Preacher gently upward, by using his head as
a battering ram, and the Preacher's delicate
person as the object of attack. Comprehending
this manoeuvre, you will not be surpised to
learn, that the Preacher soon reached the window,
and entered it again by a movement which
would have gained him great applause in any
respectable Circus. To be brief, he plunged
head under heels into the window.
“Hello! What's this!” cried Ralph as he
reached the top of the ladder and found himself
face to face with his sister — “May I be
turned into a Snapper if you don't look like
our Fan!”
“It is Fan, yes it is Ralph,” answered the
girl flinging her arms about her brother's neck
— “O, I am so glad you're come!”
“Don't doubt it! But what do you mean
dressin' yerself like a play-actor?” cried
Ralph gazing with big eyes at the changed attire
of his sister — “Have you found any rich
relations, an' did they set their house a-fire,
for joy, at seein' you?”
But Fanny with a firm hand and courageous
heart, had already ascended upon the window
sill, and placed one foot upon the ladder. She
was a brave girl. Her life of neglect and
want had given her presence of mind and firmness
of nerve.
“Go down, Ralph,” she said, “when we
are safe I'll tell you all. Go down — I can
take care of myself — only do you keep my
frock from blowing in the wind.”
“You look like a rale super at the theater,”
cried Ralph, beginning his descent, as with
one hand placed upon his sister's dress, he
steadied her movements: “Don't look below,
Fan, and we're safe!”
The wind lifted the masses of her dark hair,
and the glare of the flame, showed her form,
in distinct relief, as assisted by her vagabond
brother, she slowly descended the ladder.
“Take kear Jonesey!” shouted a Fairy
Boy from below.
And the spectators of the conflagration, held
their breath with suspense, as they beheld the
form of the girl, descending the ladder, her
rich attire contrasted strongly with the ragged
apparel of the outcast Ralph.
Fanny was half way down the ladder before
the Preacher recovered from his acrobatic
movement through the window. Gathering
himself up again, he placed his hands upon
the sill, and beheld the face of Fanny uplifted,
with the reflection of the fire, giving a wilder
beauty to every feature.
“I must not loose the girl,” he murmured,
and crawled out upon the window sill, when
a strong arm, dragged him back again.
