The Firebug

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER XXVI SAFE AT HOME

  In the meantime alarms had gone in. At the central fire station the thirdalarm came in before the megaphone had repeated the second. Clanging andscreeching, forcing their way down streets swarming with people, thefirefighters came. These ranged themselves along the outer walls of thatfamous place of play and mirth. No attempt was made to save Forest City.It was useless. The home of riotous joy was doomed. All the firemen couldhope to do was to beat back the flames and prevent them from spreading toother parts of the city.

  Long after the last structure of the vanished "City" had gone crashingdown and the great throngs had crept away to their homes, a solitaryfigure stood in a dark recess between two buildings, watching the heapsof red ruin and desolation.

  A short, sturdy fellow, he stood there hatless, and as the heat from thefire played upon his clothes they appeared to smoke, but it was onlysteam.

  His keen eyes, for the most part watching the center of the fire sweptarea, now and again went roving up and down the outer lines as ifsearching for someone.

  And then, as if fire were not enough, from the sky there came a suddendeluge of rain. One of those sudden torrents that come sweeping up fromthe lake in summer, it passed as quickly as it came, but in its wake itleft black, smouldering desolation.

  The hatless figure had moved to a place of shelter, but as the stormpassed he came out again and stood staring at the ruins. As he stoodthere a shudder shook his frame. It was indeed a thing to shudder at. Twohours before, twenty thousand joyous mortals had rioted there, and nowonly charcoal and ashes marked its place, while above it all there loomeda blackened and twisted spectre which had once been the Ferris wheel.

  "I knew it was doomed," he murmured at last, "knew it days ago. If only Ihad got him in time! But now, please God, it is over. There will be noothers of this kind."

  At that he turned and walked rapidly away.

  Tillie McFadden was the first to arrive at Mazie's home; indeed, shearrived before Mazie. Mazie found her curled up on a couch in the corner,fast asleep. Her hands were scratched and bruised, there were tear stainson her cheeks, but for all this she slept the peaceful sleep of a child.

  Mazie felt an almost uncontrollable desire to waken her, to ask her whathad befallen her, what she had seen of the fire, and what had become ofPant. She conquered this desire, to murmur as she spread a blanket overthe sleeping girl:

  "No. Why waken her to the horror of it all? A long sleep, and she willhave forgotten it. Oh, to be a little child again!"

  At that she sat down to anxiously await news from her comrades.

  In half an hour Pant arrived. As Mazie opened the door he came slouchingin without so much as looking at her. That was Pant's way. But to-nighthe moved as one in a trance, or perhaps like one who had travelled so faragainst the wind in a snowstorm that his senses had become so benumbedthat he no longer thinks clearly.

  It was not a cold night, but Mazie had kindled a little fire in thegrate. Without speaking, Pant found a seat by that fire. At once heappeared to fall into a doze.

  When the girl touched his arm to offer him a steaming drink he started asfrom a dream.

  After he had gulped down the drink he appeared more alive.

  "I carried her down," he grumbled, half to himself. "Gar! That was hard!We landed on the ground. Then we ran for it, and in the crowd I lost her.Do you think I will see her again?"

  "See who?" asked Mazie.

  "The Gypsy girl."

  "Who is she?"

  "Why, don't you know? But of course you wouldn't. She--she's the one whosaved my life and I--I carried her off the Ferris wheel. She would haveburned. The car burned before we touched the ground."

  "Oh!" exclaimed Mazie. "Then you were the one who performed thatmarvelous feat on the wheel? I might have known. No one else could havedone that."

  "You--saw us?"

  "Yes. But tell me about that other time, the time the girl saved yourlife."

  Pant told her the story.

  "Do you think I'll ever see her again?" he asked eagerly as he finished.

  "You can't tell," said Mazie slowly, "you never know. It's a strangeworld we live in. There are a hundred million of people and more, in ourland. How many do you know? A few. There are eight miles of homes betweenour house and the heart of the city. Walk the whole distance, eightmiles, twelve blocks to the mile, twenty homes to the block, probably twothousand homes. Ten thousand people live in those homes. How many of themdo you know? None, perhaps. We live in little worlds of our own. Ourlittle worlds are like ships at sea. We meet and pass others, like shipsthat pass in the night. You deserted your little world for a night andentered the Gypsy girl's world. She left hers for a night and enteredyours. Now she's gone back to hers and you to yours. Will you meet again?Why should you?"

  "Sure enough, why should we?" echoed Pant.

  "Someone at the door!" exclaimed Pant.

  Mazie was so overjoyed at sight of the one she found at the door that itwas with difficulty that she refrained from throwing her arms about hisneck. It was Johnny.

  His story was soon told. His dive from the lower balcony of the tower hadbeen successful. Having landed in the water without so much as beingstunned, he had done the Australian crawl to the far end of the poolwhere was a landing. There he had leaped to his feet and gone racingaway. Scarcely a moment had elapsed after he reached a point of safety,when the tower came crashing down on the very spot where he had stood.

  Having seen the leap of the man he had followed into the tower, he hadwatched to see if by any miracle of circumstance he might have landed inthe pool and followed him to safety. Since this did not seem humanlypossible, he had given the man up for lost, but had lingered about thescene until the torrent had reduced the fire to charcoal. Then he hadcome away.

  "Well, here we all are, safe and well," smiled Mazie.

  "And the firebug is dead," said Johnny.

  "How do you know that?" Pant challenged.

  "I watched the burning pile until it was done. I tell you he was killedby the fall, crushed by the building that came crashing down upon him. Heshould be dead enough from all that."

  "But how do you know he was the firebug?" persisted Pant. "You can'treally prove it."

  "I can," said Johnny positively, "and to-morrow I will."