Part 5 (1/2)

But his own personal alarm was quickly lost in a greater. Suppose the telegraph office also should be in flames, and he unable to reach it? He ran on madly.

He neared the store, and with hope saw that so far the flames were only in the second story. Men were hurrying in and out, and from the hardware-store adjoining. But as he rushed to the drug-store door a cloud of heavy smoke rolled forth, driving a group of men before it.

Among them he recognized his father.

”Dad,” he cried, ”can't I reach the instruments? I've a message for help to Hammerton and Zeisler from the mayor! The 'phone office and the station are burned. There is no other way of getting word out.”

Mr. Orr had halted in consternation. ”No; you couldn't get to them. The telegraph room is a furnace. The fire came in through the office windows from the outhouse, and I closed the door from the store.”

Through the haze of smoke within burst a lurid fork of flame.

”There! The fire is out through the telegraph-room door,” said the druggist. ”You couldn't get near the table. And anyway, Jack, the instruments would be useless by this time.”

It was this remark that aroused Jack. ”If I could rip them from the table in any kind of shape, perhaps I could fix them up quickly so I could use them,” he thought.

To his father he said with sudden determination, ”Dad, I'm going to make a try for the key and relay.”

”No. I won't permit it,” declared Mr. Orr decisively.

”But father, if we don't get word out the whole town may be burned,”

cried Jack.

”I'll make a try myself,” said Mr. Orr, and without further word lowered his head and dashed back into the smoke.

While Jack stood anxiously awaiting his father's reappearance the owner of the adjacent hardware-store stumbled from his doorway under a bundle of horse-blankets. With an immediate idea Jack ran toward him. ”Mr.

Wells, let me have some of those blankets,” he said hurriedly. ”We want to try and reach the telegraph instruments. They are the only hope for getting word out of town for help. Father is in after them, but I don't think he can reach them with nothing over him.”

The merchant promptly threw the whole bundle to the ground. ”Help yourself,” he directed.

At the door again, he called back. ”Can you use anything else?”

”No--Say, yes! A pair of leather gauntlets.” The merchant disappeared, reappeared, and threw toward Jack a bundle of leather gloves. ”Many as you want,” he shouted.

Catching them up and two of the blankets, Jack sprang back for their own store as his father reappeared.

”They can't be reached,” coughed Mr. Orr. ”Couldn't even get to the door.”

”I'll try with these blankets, then,” said Jack decisively. ”Throw them over my head, please.”

His father hesitated. ”But my boy--”

”There's little danger, Dad. The blankets are thick. And I know just where the instruments are. And see, I'll wear these gauntlets,” he added, pulling a pair over his hands.

Somewhat reluctantly Mr. Orr took the blankets and threw them over Jack's head, and on the run Jack plunged into the wall of smoke.

With one gloved hand outstretched he found the telegraph-room door, and the k.n.o.b. He pressed against it, and with a crash and then a roar the door collapsed before him. But without a moment's hesitation he darted on within, groped his way to the table, found the relay, and with a desperate wrench tore it from its place. The next moment he dashed blindly into his father's arms at the outer door, and threw the smoking blankets and sizzling, burning relay to the sidewalk.

”Water on it quick,” gasped Jack, pointing to the instrument. Catching it up in a corner of one of the blankets Mr. Orr ran with it to a horse-trough in front, and plunged it into the water.