The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1896-08-08

himself. Then, leaning down, laid
his hand upon the obstacle, giving an
exclamation as it came in contact, with
what was evidently human body;
and, as he peered more closely, his
eyes were able to distinguish that
it was a child, lying almost within
reach of the angry, hungry flames.
And, as he caught the little form up
in his strong arms, LARGE knew in a
moment that it was Davie, and that
that strange parcel which he held
clasped close in his unconscious,
scorched, and blackened arms was
none other than his own prize map!
With something very like sob,-
for in an instant it rushed in upon
him how it had came Ambulance
ran with his little burden quickly to
the cottage, and, laying him on the
the bed, bathed the white forehead,
which was black with smoke now,
and from which the hair had been
scorched away, and poured water
down between the parched lips, work
ing with heart throbbing with keen
est pain, till, finally, with a sigh, the
blue eyes opened, and looked straight
up into his with bewildered, ques-
tioning expression. Then, as it all
came back,-the fear, the horror, the
scorching fames,-he gave great
shudder; but the next moment, try
ing to control himself, be asked:
Did I save it, Lance? Did save
your map that you told me to keep
for you7 l tried very hard but it
hung so high, and the smoke was SO
thick, and I was 80 fraid,-I am al
ways such coward! / can't seem to
remember. Did l save it2"
Yes, yes! You did save it, Da-
view cried Lance, with aching heart,
as he thought at what price it had
been saved. And almost at the mo-
ment he flung himself upon his knees
beside the bed, and buried his face
in his hands; for, with little gasp,
Davies head had fallen back, his eyes
closed, and he lay there white and
still.
Dead? No: Davie was not dead,
as Lance and all the others thought
for ten long minutes. could never
have had the heart to tell you this
little tale, had Davie died. No, he
was not dead; and, when they
thought all hope was passed, he once
more opened his eyes,-cpened them
wide with wonder and amazement.
For what is this he hears,-Lance
sobbing, as he kneels there with hid
den face?
30 Davie, Davie! How can | ever
forgive myself? Dear, brave little
herow
"Brave?" "Hero?" He,-Davie?
He so little, so lame, and so very. very
far from brave! He must tell Lance
how frightened he was, for he does
not seem to understand. And so he
speaks his name; and, as Lance looks
up with little cry of JOY at the sound
of that voice which he had never ex-
pected to hear again, showing face
wet with tears,-tears of which he
had no need to be ashamed, the
child put up his little blistered hand
to wipe them away. But, before he
could speak, before he could frame
the words which he felt that he must
say to clear from Lance's mind that
strange mistake, another voice had
taken up the strain.
"Three cheers!" it cried. "Three
times three and tiger for Davie! For
Davie, so little, SO lame, but so very,
very brave!"
And, with fast-beating heart, trem-
bling with happiness he never had
hoped to feel, Davie buried his face
on Lance's shoulder, and listened to
those cheers, in which Lance, though
holding him close, was not a BILE to
raise his voice.-,SeLected.