University of Virginia Library

31. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIRST.
STEWEL HAS HOPES OF THE TIN BOX.

Peter stood before him, holding the form of
an insensible man in his arms. Peter rushing
from the smoke and flames of the entry, had
closed the door again, and dragged his burden
toward the window.

“It's Lester,” faltered the Preacher, as he beheld
the pallid face of the insensible man.

“To be sure it is, an' I found him thar in
the smoke! An' when I found him he wanted
to jump down the stairs into the fire, and so I
had to knock him, jist to bring him to reason.
Arter us is manners!”

Throwing the form of the insensible Lester
over his shoulders, he emerged from the window,
and began to descend the ladder.

“You are not going to leave me?” shrieked
the Preacher, “I tell you I can't get down myself,
I'm sick — I haven't strength. The fire
has reached the entry — I'll be burned alive —”

“What's the odds!” shouted Peter, lifting
his ruddy visage toward the affrighted man,
who projected his head from the window
—“If you can't use your hands an' feet you'll
have to burn.”

The Preacher, whose terrors, long agitated
by glimpses of hope, now left him trembling
and powerless, leaned against the window, his
teeth chattering and his hands shaking as they
grasped the sill.

“I can't get down, I tell you I c-a-n-t!” he
shrieked.

Peter with his insensible burden on his
shoulders, was now on a level with the second
story.

At the same moment, Fanny and Ralph had
reached the pavement, amid the cheers of the
spectators.

“Wait a minnit and I'll come up for you!”
cried Peter, “You deserve a good burnin' but
I'll let that be postponed to a futur' occasion!”

“Quick! Quick! I hear the fire in the
entry!” and as his voice was borne away by
the wind, the spectators beheld his pallid face
and outstretched arms.

For two or three minutes the wretched man
endured all the tortures of a thousand deaths.
He heard the roaring of the flame, as it swept
from the wing to the main edifice of the man
sion — he felt the heat which despite the open
window, was fast becoming insupportable —
and it seemed to his craven soul, that his heart
as it knocked against his ribs, was only the
sound of a death-watch, announcing his approaching
hour.

“He's nearly down the ladder! Why don't
he hurry? It's horrible — burned alive, burned
alive and at my age! He means to leave me
here — I know it, I know it! Curse me,
why have not I strength to descend the ladder
myself? Hah! He's down, he's down!
He's giving Lester into the arms of those
men, and there's the girl, too — all safe, all
safe! And I'm up here, burning alive” —

The eyes of the wretched man fairly started
from their sockets. Grasping the window,
with both hands, he bent forward, and traversed
the extent of the ladder with a madman's
gaze.

“He's coming, he's coming?” screamed
the Preacher, as he caught a glimpse of the
scarlet coat — “Quick! Quick! If I once
get out o' this I'll be a better man, indeed I
will!”

Peter is indeed upon the ladder once more —
Peter is ascending rapidly — and Peter reaches
the window, at the same moment that the fire
bursts from the roof above, in one vivid and
dazzling sheet of flame.

“Come!” and the Preacher reached forth
both arms.

Peter seized him, as though he had been a
bundle of goods.

“Be quiet and don't kick or I'll drap you —”
he whispered, as he slowly descended.

At this moment, the pipe of the Fairy directed
towards the roof, poured in one steady
column full upon the head of the Preacher.
In an instant he was saturated from head to
foot.

“Murder!” he shouted, scarce knowing
what to make of this last calamity — “Fire!”

“Be quiet, can't you,” whispered Peter,
and as he spoke the flames rushed in a torrent
from the third story window. “Look thar!”

Raising his dripping face, the Preacher beheld
the sheeted mass, and was blinded even
as he gazed, by a sudden cloud of smoke,
which whirled along the front of this mansion,
burying himself and Peter in its folds.

“Hold me tight,” he gasped in agony —

“Don't let me drop! If I'm safe out o' this,
I'll be a better man!”

“O, you will?” growled Peter —“I reckon
so! Till you run off with somebody's wife
or murder somebody's darter? Hey?”

In a few moments, half dead with affright,
wet to the skin, and shivering in every nerve,
the Preacher was placed upon his feet, at the
foot of the ladder. The instant that his feet
touched the ground, he seemed to recover his
presence of mind. Gazing around the crowd,
he beheld the ragged Ralph standing beside
his sister, near the foot of the ladder, while
Lester was in the arms of a stout citizen who
was endeavoring to restore him to consciousness
by dashing water into his face. And as
he looked around, Fanny rushed eagerly toward
him, holding Ralph by the hand, while
the giant Peter turned to the insensible Lester,
and assisted the stout citizen in the effort to
restore him from his death-like swoon.

“This is Ralph — this is my brother,” said
Fanny.

A deep bass voice resounding from the very
foot of the ladder, for a moment drew the
attention of the spectators from the face of the
beautiful girl.

“Gentlemen! This is a free country,” said
the deep bass voice, and the portly form of
Stewel Pydgeon was revealed by the torch
light — “An' I don't hold it to be the correct
thing, to let a man burn to death in a free
country.”

“Where's any body burnin' to death?”
cried a Fireman, who was busy at a fire-plug
which stood in front of the burning mansion
— “Where is he? Say? Don't you see we're
gettin' the fire under, old hoss? There's more
chance o' yer friend bein' drowned than burnt
by a long chalk.”

“He's in that house, an' he's my friend,”
cried Stewel, in great excitement — “An' I've
got a warrant for him in my pocket! I should
like to know if the ends o' justice are to be
evaded in this way? A man goin' and burnin'
hisself to death when I've got a warrant in my
pocket for him?”

Singular to relate, these words of Stewel,
pronounced with much eloquence of gesture
and an emphasis of the deepest bass, only
elicited a roar of laughter from the surrounding
crowd.

“I say Stewel, I'd get a habe's corpus on
him,” suggested the fireman at the plug —
“That'll fetch him sure!”

But a new object of interest had attracted
Stewel's gaze. He beheld the Preacher in his
dressing gown, with Fanny on one side, and
the half-naked Outcast on the other.

“Goodleigh's gone — but the tin box is
sure!” cried Stewel, grasping Ralph by the
collar. “Come along Jonesey — that tin box
my dear!”

And Ralph who had been listening to the
whispered words of the Preacher, started as if
he had been aroused in the midst of a dream,
and found himself in the hands of Stewel
Pydgeon.

“What has my brother done to you?”
cried Fanny.

“Why do you seize the young man by the
throat?” exclaimed the Preacher laying his
hand on Stewel's arm.

“What's that your business? I say my
buck you'll have to come along. The tin box
is safe if Goodleigh has gone and burnt hisself
to death.”

He tightened his grasp upon the collar of
the young man, and began to drag him roughly
along the pavement.

Ralph at first thunderstricken by the apparition
of Stewel, now regarded him steadily,
surveying his rubicund face with flashing
eyes.

“Jist let go a-me,” he said — “Or I'll be
apt to raise the Fairy on you.”

As he said this, Lester stretched in the arms
of Peter, at the foot of the tree-box, unclosed
his eyes. He beheld with the first glance of
consciousness, the face of Fanny and the visage
of the Preacher. At the sight, the blood
coursed through his veins once more. He
sprang from the arms of Caleb and rushed toward
the Preacher.

“Fairy boys to yer work, to yer work I
say!” — cried Ralph, and Stewel under the influence
of a clenched fist, which Ralph had
planted between his eyes, fell back upon Lester,
and Lester unprepared for this shock, fell
once more into the arms of Peter.

“You're a fugitive from justice!” shouted
Stewel, as soon as he recovered himself.
“Gentlemen I call upon you to assist me in
arrestin' this desperate villain!”

He looked around for Ralph, but Ralph had
disappeared.

“It is Jervis,” whispered Lester as he released
himself from the arms of Peter, “Jervis
and the daughter of Alice Bayne.”

Rushing by the portly form of Stewel, Lester
looked eagerly around in search of the
Preacher and the girl, but Jervis and Fanny
had also disappeared.

Lester and Stewel formed the centre of a
compact group, who regarded their movements
with a burst of laughter.

“He shall not escape me!” shouted Lester,
as the light streamed on his uncovered
head and colorless visage, “I will pursue him
to the end of the earth” —

He attempted to force his way through the
crowd, but the crowd presenting a compact
front, forced him back upon the portly form of
the Police Officer:

“This is an attempt to resist the Law!”
shouted Stewel in a rage — “I know you
gentlemen! I've got all your names! You
may laugh, but to-morrow, Judge Choktaw
'ill hear o' this” —

The crowd seemed to be impressed with
the idea that Lester and Stewel were alike
functionaries of the law, and therefore they resisted
all their attempts to pursue the fugitives.

Peter came quietly to Lester's side —
but at this moment, a scene took place, which
entirely changed the surface of affairs.