Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1876-08-04
A HEROIC ACT.

A HEROIC ACT.
It was when VIM. G. Conner, the
popular Sheriff, was Secretary of Pro.
lection Engine Company, No 5, and
the Volunteer Fire Department of
New York City was in full force and
In all its glory that the subjoined
incident, enough in compass upon
which to build romance, transpired.
1t is not necessary to mention with
particularly the number of the street,
for the old structure was long ago re-
moved where the fire broke out
Very near the time has been given,
and that should be sufficient.
The clocks of the city large and
small, had struck the hour of ten of
a bitter cold night in December, and
orderly-disposed people were about
preparing to retire, when suddenly
the City Hall and all the other great
fire-bells began ringing furiously.-
In those days the alarms were not
gwen by stations, and the fremen
often experienced no little difficulty
and considerable loss of time in seek
ing the exact location of conflagra-
ton.
On this occasion, however, the
flames shot suddenly upward, and ev-
eryone knew that the fire was on the
East side of the town, and was GER
tainly below Market street, in four
story tenement house.
The flames had gained considera-
BILE headway before the engines could
get at their fitful work-they were
worked by hand then-and it was
with no little difficulty that the in
mates succeeded, losing their furni-
ture, in escaping unscathed.
But as the flames leaped with
great forked tongues from window
to window and from floor to floor, it
began at first to be whispered, and
then with loud cries asserted, that a
little girl between four and five years
old, was asleep in a back room in
the upper story.
The mother of the child rushed
frantically forward toward the burn
ing building, and in vain effort, for
such it would have been for her, to
have thoughtlessly and recklessly en-
tered 1t.
One of the assistant engineers,
however, stopped her. He even gen.
tly pushed her back, finally placing
her in the care of a policeman, at the
same time informing her that if it
were humanity possible her little one
should be rescued.
While he spoke-not, however, be-
lieving his own words, for he thought
no one could reach it-laddcrs were
hurriedly placed against the front of
the structure, and hose was served
up them in order to drive back the
forked flames from the chamber in
which, if not already smothered by
the smoke, the child might be.
While this work was being accom-
plished bright-eyed, very handsome
looking and resolute boy of about
fourteen, broke through the Gordon,
and running to the engineer, said:
81 can save the little girl. Her
name is Lottie Wilson, sir. know
which way to so and how to do it.
She'll be burnt up or smothered be-
fore they can get water on the fourth
floor. just tell some of the men to
play on the stairs, and I'll be all
right. It's the only way, sir"
"But, boy" hurriedly returned the
engineer, 'sdon't you see the stairs
are already on fire.
"Play on them, then," shouted the
boy as he ran forward.
In another second-hardly stop
ping to elude falling bricks and
pieces of burned and broken timbers
that came from the doors, windows
and roof of the house-he was be-
yond human succor so far as could
be given by those who saw him DIS
appear.
And now great hush fell upon
the vast assemblage.
Many had actually seen-all had
heard of the brave boy-and there
were people who murmured:
"God save him. Who is he?"
And now the assistant engineer,
in loud voice instructed the men
who had the pipes to play directly
upon the stairs, and, if possible, for a
minute or two, conquer the flames
that are leaping toward them, scorch-
ing and eating them.
The excitement, though subdued,
was terrible-fcarfully intense.
Everyone was on the lookout, and
now and again some person, whose
nerves were overweight, would cry:
"There! There he is!''
But the aching multitude of men
and women, whose eyes never left
the entrance to the fated house,
knew better.
They not only watched, but hoped
and prayed.
Even the voice of the unhappy
mother was hushed with expectation.
All this while moments seemed
hours, the firemcn played in the di-
rection of the stairs; and notwith-
standing, the flames were steadily
making headway!
And the brave boy. What of him?
1t was soon ascertained that he
was "printer's DEVIL" and that his
name was julius Franklin.
That was sufficient just then for
the terribly excited throng Of on
lockers.
And Franklin! His subsequent
story was nearly as follows:
"When I got up the lower stairs, |
found that the flames were all around
me; but that the steps were yet strong
enough to bear me up, and that if l
fastened might succeed in getting
down them with safety.
cat the first landing dense cloud
of smoke swept down upon aud near.
ly .choked me. There was no flame
in it, however; Immediately fell up
on my face with my mouth to the hot
boards crawled to the next flight
of stairs. Up these ] succeeded in