The Coconino weekly sun., 1894-05-17

arose as he did so-a cry between a scream of horror and Q roar of ap- plause. No one expected to see the man come out of that blazing pit alive
 The engine came rattling up The firemeu fixed their ladders to the win. dows and ran up them, and were driven back again scorched and faint Noth- ing alive could be within, they said But suddenly, on the blazing parapet, appears a figure holding d burden in his arms. He looks downward at the ladders, which could not reach him, then backward at the flames. Then he dropped, clinging by one hand to the hot ledge, swung there moment, and dropped upon the ladder The crowd had thought to see him dashed to pieces on the street, and had stretched up their hands involuntarily, as though to catch bim; but some were on the ladder, and they did their best for him. Even they were in grea: danger, but good angels watched over them. The bundle that he held so fast, wrapped in a wet blanket, was seized by one man; two others held him in their arms and brought him down.
 The girl rushed forward screaming, and those who held the blanket up- wound its folds Out of 1t peeped a little flushed baby face-a head of rumpled curls. Half smotherod, but unhurt, Trot held her tiny arms to- ward her nurse, and cried in baby C., f,N ha fply h,,h
 No harm had come to Trot, but what of her preserver, Ishmael? He lay there with his head upon a fireman's knees. A doctos had his hand upon his heart His eyes were closed; his hair singed t; his eyebrows whitened; his flash clothes one mass of tin der; his very boots shriveled and scrolled away from his burnt feet; the hand that had held the little burden and clung to the molten roof ledge so bravely was one mass of blistered burns
 Like one dead he lay for awhile, but at last his eyes opened. He looked at the faces about him, all kindly, pitiful, full of sympathy, and felt that for once he was a friend among friends He heard men call him brave, and heard women sob. A new life had dawned upon him-he, Ishmael, was a hero. He had often been stared at by a crowd before, as he stood at the prisoners s bar, but a host of kindly eyes had never thus turned upon him. He did not feel much pain, but he knew that the end was at hand. He was dying-dying just as he had begun to see what life might be; yet, after all, he was happy.
 Its no use, pals" he said faintly to those busy about him. Eve swal- lowed fire! I'm a dead man! Where's the little kid? I want her"
 They brought her to him. The inno- cent thing had neither fear nor dread, but she came solemnly, and her great eyes dilated as she looked at him.
 Dit up," she said, softly, and patted him-''dit dp."
 Kiss him, Trot," said the girl, sob ping. ''He took you out of the fire. Oh! poor, poor fellow! Kiss him, Trot- {"
 And Trot knelt down and took the singed black whiskers once more in her hands and holding them apart gave the dying Ishmael her pretty French kisses" one for each cheek and one for the mouth. He drew her to him.
 'l want her arms about my neck," he said, faintly.
 "Cuddle him, Trot," said the girl
 And Trot sat down and wound her tiny arms around the great throat and put her cheek close down to his, and he whispered so softly that no one but this innocent baby heard him.
 "Good-by, little kid. l might have had something rougher around my scrag when died. If the prison chap lains are right maybe we'll meet again. l wish I'd had little kid like you. might have been another man."
 His hands dropped away from Trot's waist with these words.
 Mans asleep" said Trot
 And Ishmael was asleep, indeed. The sleep that knows no waking had come upon him in Trot's innocent arms. He lay there dead N. Y, News