Beautiful Joe, Marshall Saunders [historical books to read .TXT] 📗
- Author: Marshall Saunders
Book online «Beautiful Joe, Marshall Saunders [historical books to read .TXT] 📗». Author Marshall Saunders
the hotel for a few weeks, while their house was being repaired. He had
his Irish setter, Brisk, with him, and a handsome dog he was, as he
stood waving his silky tail in the sunlight. Charlie patted me, and then
he and his dog went into the hotel. I turned into the stable yard. It
was a small, choked-up place, and as I picked my way under the cabs and
wagons standing in the yard, I wondered why the hotel people didn't buy
some of the old houses near by, and tear them down, and make a stable
yard worthy of such a nice hotel. The hotel horses were just getting
rubbed down after their day's work, and others were coming in. The men
were talking and laughing, and there was no sign of strange animals, so
I went around to the back of the yard. Here they were, in an empty cow
stable, under a hay loft. There were two little ponies tied up in a
stall, two goats beyond them, and dogs and monkeys in strong traveling
cages. I stood in the doorway and stared at them. I was sorry for the
dogs to be shut up on such a lovely evening, but I suppose their master
was afraid of their getting lost, or being stolen, if he let them loose.
They all seemed very friendly. The ponies turned around and looked at me
with their gentle eyes, and then went on munching their hay. I wondered
very much where the gander was, and went a little farther into the
stable. Something white raised itself up out of the brownest pony's
crib, and there was the gander close up beside the open mouth of his
friend. The monkeys make a jabbering noise, and held on to the bars of
their cage with their little black hands, while they looked out at me.
The dogs sniffed the air, and wagged their tails, and tried to put their
muzzles through the bars of their cage. I liked the dogs best, and I
wanted to see the one they called Bob, so I went up quite close to them.
There were two little white dogs, something like Billy, two mongrel
spaniels, an Irish terrier, and a brown dog asleep in the corner, that I
knew must be Bob. He did look a little like me, but he was not quite so
ugly, for he had his ears and his tail.
While I was peering through the bars at him, a man came in the stable.
He noticed me the first thing, but instead of driving me out, he spoke
kindly to me, in a language that I did not understand. So I knew that he
was the Italian. How glad the animals were to see him! The gander
fluttered out of his nest, the ponies pulled at their halters, the dogs
whined and tried to reach his hands to lick them, and the monkeys
chattered with delight. He laughed and talked back to them in queer,
soft-sounding words. Then he took out of a bag on his arm, bones for the
dogs, nuts and cakes for the monkeys, nice, juicy carrots for the
ponies, some green stuff for the goats, and corn for the gander.
It was a pretty sight to see the old man feeding his pets, and it made
me feel quite hungry, so I trotted home. I had a run down town again
that evening with Mr. Morris, who went to get something from a shop for
his wife. He never let his boys go to town after tea, so if there were
errands to be done, he or Mrs. Morris went. The town was bright and
lively that evening, and a great many people were walking about and
looking into the shop windows.
When we came home, I went into the kennel with Jim, and there I slept
till the middle of the night. Then I started up and ran outside. There
was a distant bell ringing, which we often heard in Fairport, and which
always meant fire.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XXXIV (A FIRE IN FAIRPORT)I had several times run to a fire with the boys, and knew that there was
always a great noise and excitement. There was a light in the house, so
I knew that somebody was getting up. I don't think--indeed I know, for
they were good boys--that they ever wanted anybody to lose property, but
they did enjoy seeing a blaze, and one of their greatest delights, when
there hadn't been a fire for some time, was to build a bonfire in the
garden.
Jim and I ran around to the front of the house and waited. In a few
minutes, some one came rattling at the front door, and I was sure it was
Jack. But it was Mr. Morris, and without a word to us, he set off almost
running toward the town. We followed after him, and as we hurried along
other men ran out from the houses along the streets, and either joined
him, or dashed ahead. They seemed to have dressed in a hurry, and were
thrusting their arms in their coats, and buttoning themselves up as they
went. Some of them had hats and some of them had none, and they all had
their faces toward the great red light that got brighter and brighter
ahead of us. "Where's the fire?" they shouted to each other. "Don't
know--afraid it's the hotel, or the town hall. It's such a blaze. Hope
not. How's the water supply now? Bad time for a fire."
It was the hotel. We saw that as soon as we got on to the main street.
There were people all about, and a great noise and confusion, and smoke
and blackness, and up above, bright tongues of flame were leaping
against the sky, Jim and I kept close to Mr. Morris's heels, as he
pushed his way among the crowd. When we got nearer the burning building,
we saw men carrying ladders and axes, and others were shouting
directions, and rushing out of the hotel, carrying boxes and bundles and
furniture in their arms. From the windows above came a steady stream of
articles, thrown among the crowd. A mirror struck Mr. Morris on the arm,
and a whole package of clothes fell on his head and almost smothered
him; but he brushed them aside and scarcely noticed them. There was
something the matter with Mr. Morris--I knew by the worried sound of his
voice when he spoke to any one, I could not see his face, though it was
as light as day about us, for we had got jammed in the crowd, and if I
had not kept between his feet, I should have been trodden to death. Jim,
being larger than I was, had got separated from us.
Presently Mr. Morris raised his voice above the uproar, and called, "Is
every one out of the hotel?" A voice shouted back, "I'm going up to
see."
"It's Jim Watson, the fireman," cried some one near. "He's risking his
life to go into that pit of flame. Don't go, Watson." I don't think that
the brave fireman paid any attention to this warning, for an instant
later the same voice said, "He's planting his ladder against the third
story. He's bound to go. He'll not get any farther than the second,
anyway."
"Where are the Montagues?" shouted Mr. Morris. "Has any one seen the
Montagues?"
"Mr. Morris! Mr. Morris!" said a frightened voices and young Charlie
Montague pressed through the people to us. "Where's papa?"
"I don't know. Where did you leave him?" said Mr. Morris, taking his
hand and drawing him closer to him. "I was sleeping in his room," said
the boy, "and a man knocked at the door, and said, 'Hotel on fire. Five
minutes to dress and get out,' and papa told me to put on my clothes and
go downstairs, and he ran up to mamma."
"Where was she?" asked Mr. Morris, quickly.
"On the fourth flat. She and her maid Blanche were up there. You know,
mamma hasn't been well and couldn't sleep, and our room was so noisy
that she moved upstairs where it was quiet." Mr. Morris gave a kind of
groan. "Oh, I'm so hot, and there's such a dreadful noise," said the
little boy, bursting into tears, "and I want mamma." Mr. Morris soothed
him as best he could, and drew him a little to the edge of the crowd.
While he was doing this, there was a piercing cry. I could not see the
person making it, but I knew it was the Italian's voice. He was
screaming, in broken English that the fire was spreading to the stables,
and his animals would be burned. Would no one help him to get his
animals out? There was a great deal of confused language Some voices
shouted, "Look after the people first Let the animals go." And others
said, "For shame. Get the horses out." But no one seemed to do anything,
for the Italian went on crying for help, I heard a number of people who
were standing near us say that it had just been found out that several
persons who had been sleeping in the top of the hotel had not got out.
They said that at one of the top windows a poor housemaid was shrieking
for help. Here in the street we could see no one at the upper windows,
for smoke was pouring from them.
The air was very hot and heavy, and I didn't wonder that Charlie
Montague felt ill. He would have fallen on the ground if Mr. Morris
hadn't taken him in his arms, and carried him out of the crowd. He put
him down on the brick sidewalk, and unfastened his little shirt, and
left me to watch him, while he held his hands under a leak in a hose
that was fastened to a hydrant near us. He got enough water to dash on
Charlie's face and breast, and then seeing that the boy was reviving, he
sat down on the curbstone and took him on his knee, Charlie lay in his
arms and moaned. He was a delicate boy, and he could not stand rough
usage as the Morris boys could.
Mr. Morris was terribly uneasy. His face was deathly white, and he
shuddered whenever there was a cry from the burning building. "Poor
souls--God help them. Oh, this is awful," he said; and then he turned
his eyes from the great sheets of flame and strained the little boy to
his breast. At last there were wild shrieks that I knew came from no
human throats. The fire must have reached the horses. Mr. Morris sprang
up, then sank back again. He wanted to go, yet he could be of no use.
There were hundreds of men standing about, but the fire had spread so
rapidly, and they had so little water to put on it, that there was very
little they could do. I wondered whether I could do anything for the
poor animals. I was not afraid of fire, as most dogs, for one of the
tricks that the Morris boys had taught me was to put out a fire with my
paws. They would throw a piece of lighted paper on the floor, and I
would crush it with my forepaws; and If the blaze was too large for
that, I would drag a bit of old carpet over it and jump on it. I left
Mr, Morris, and ran around the corner of the street to the back of the
hotel. It was not burned as much here as in the front, and in the houses
all around, people were out on their roofs with wet blankets, and some
were standing at the windows watching the fire, or packing up their
belongings ready to move if it should spread to them. There was a narrow
lane running up a short distance toward the hotel, and I started
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