Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1896-08-15

but nc one could have gone down that way
after her. The passage was blocked. 1 ran
to another stairway. 1t was impossible
with smoke.
Nearly stifled. rushed back to the win
dow. The smoke whirled after me. driving
me to the roof. Then part of the light
fabric of the house, upon my left. blazed
up All was bright as day Below ME l
saw many faces. and among them my I'M
cle.s. and the ago1ized countenance of his
wife. She was on her knees. Her arms
we're extended toward the window of her
chIld's room.
I'm the sudden glare my own form stood
out clearly. INSTANTLY great shout arose.
Some called for ladders. Others cried to me
| to descend. this way or that. / knew the
| way we'll enough. and l climbed along the
| roof with ease. But at last the fire came
| so near that was forced to jump. 1t was
| only a little distance. but, hampered by my
| burden which no danger would make me
| relinquish. l did not a!ight squarely upon
/ my feet. and 50 I sustained a painful In
jury. But the child was wholly unframed.
| The wrappings about his head had pre-
| vented him from irhaling fire or smoke
placed him in his mothers arms and saw
her tears fail upon his face.
"A trihing exercise of ingenuity enabled
| me to account for my presence I said that
l had been lettering in the grounds listen
| ing to the music After receiving the COM
mendations of all 1 made my way to my
| lodgings with great difficulty, for, when
| the excitement had in some degree left me.
| my injuries asserted themselves. 1 took
| to my bed at once and summoned a pnysi-
! clan.
| THE next day my uncle called, as I knew
he would. l had prepared myself for the
| interview. and had resolved to take no
| more of the bounty that his gratitude
would offer than enough for my frugal
needs at college.
My uncle thanked me cordially. and pre-
| scented to me a silver watch which had
| long been an heirloom-so long. in fact,
! that 1t had ceased to have any value as a
| SubSSOuppt
much money In the vain attempt to have
1t repaired.
Il was in bed four weeks. but by the
great skill of my physician escaped being
| a cripple. His bill s207. and as 1 had
not the money. 1 referred the matter to my
uncle. who advised me not to pay on the
ground that the charge was exorbtant. I
| did not take that view of it; simply told
| the doctor that had nothing. He then put
the matter In the hands Of attorney.
Now. gentlemen, was 1t not clear that
| 1t was my uncle's duty to pay that bill?
| l thought so then. and have never seen
| reason to change my mind. / argued and
pleaded with him. but he refused There
was but one way In which I could make
| him do his duty and save the reputation of
| our family. l secured one Of his check
blanks and drew a check for the sum,
| signing my uncle's name In a very careful
| and competent manner. The check. as I
| argued. would hardly be noticed in the
| bank account of a man so rich as my uncle
| was reputed to be. Yet. strangely enough,
| the check came back. not because Of the
signature. but because the account was al
ready ovtrdrawn.
| The doctors ttorney made q great out
/, cry about it. and that led to the discovery
OF the fact that my uncle'S wealth was q
| bubble. 1t also burst that bubble His
credit was gone. and that was all that he
| had had to live upon In some years.
! OF course. he detected the forgery, but
| before he could get the machinery of JUS
| t1ce at work against me certain compllca-
| lions in his own affairs forced him to leave
the country forever. My crime was never
| brought home to me: yet it seems to me
that was sufficiently punished by the loss
! OF the college course which should other
| wise have had and by the great trouble
with that old silver watch.
| such, gentlemen. is the story Of my first
| crime. frankly told. / trust that you will
respond In the same spirit, with plain un-
| Vanished narratives"
You can rely on me for that" said Bill
Harris, gazing at Newcomb with admira-
| ton Il am only a second-rate liar any-
| way. and have no business in the present
| company. However 1 will tell a true story
! by and by. but think that Frank Gleason
| had better follow cur friend Woodbury. II
| there is no objection"
PART II.
| To the imputation upon his yeracity
Frank Gleason retorted that the story
| which he was about to tell was strictly
| true. He added that a man who had led
such life as his did not need to invent
| stories Of marvellous adventure. This prom
| osition he proceeded to prove by sketchina
strangely varied career. with great clear
ness and exemplary brevity.
AS to the little affair I'm roin1 "a foI1