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

JOlclnS LndJ, IOT Ouce, III HIS eACitc-
ment, Lance had forgotten to make
him go out into the frosty autumn
day to get what he called his mouth
full of fresh air; for Davie did not
love the cold, and would but for
watchful Lance, have always spent
the noon hour crouching over the
stove.
When the school house was closed
for the night, the key was tucked be-
meath certain shingle known to all
the boys, and always to be found by
him whose turn it was to open the
door and see to the fire in the morn
ing
From this hiding place every after
noon, just before the dusk grew too
deep for him to see, Davie, having
hobbled over from his home, would
take the key, and, opening the door,
limp up the aisle, and stand for a
moment before his precious charge to
make quite sure that it was all right
before leaving it alone for the night.
And so the days passed; and then
one Saturday morning a strange
thing happened.
Davies back had panied him sadly
during tina night, and l am afraid
that there were tears poured into the
friendly pillow; but toward morning
he fell into deep, quiet sleep, from
which his father did not waken him,
but, leaving his breakfast to keep hot
upon the stove, let him sleep on. The
sun rose, and mounted higher and
higher. The sparrows twittered and
called from the bare trees. A gray
squirrel, coaxed out by the warm
November sunshine, came and stood
upon his window sill, and scolded
Davie for wasting the beautiful
morning; but the little boy did not
hear.
Presently, however, he grew rest
less in his sleep, tossed and turned,
and finally began to cough. Lifting
himself up, half awake, he sat rub
bling his eyes, which were smarting
strangely, and wondering vaguely
how the sun happened to be shining
in at the north window on this par
ticular morning, when it had never
done SO before, and how much fog
had gotten into his room, and how
there could be fog and sunshine at
the same time. But little by little
his senses returned to him; and then
he began to realize that it was not
fog at all, but smoke, that was filling
the room, and that it could not be
the sun that was making that strange
glare upon his wall. And, having
reached that point, Davie was out of
bed in an instant, and, Selling his
crutch, flew to the window, and
pressed his face so suddenly against
the pane that the squirrel was
frightened half out out of his wits,
and bounded away, scolding, into a
great pine-tree.
But Davie was in no doubt, for the
cause of all that had so puzzled him
was there before his startled eyes.
The school house was on fire
Poor little Davie! OF all people to
be placed in such positionl His first
thought was to get way, far away,
from those cruel flames, which were
bursting from the windows near the
door, filling him with almost uncon-
trollable terror.
Hurrying on his clothes and catch
ing up his crutch again, he was out
of the house before many minutes
had passed, and was making for the
road which led to the village, when
suddenly the thought of his precious
charge stopped and held him fast.
But what, after all, could he do,-
so little, so lame, and 80 very, very
very frightened' Folks would be
sure to zee the flames, and come and
put out the fire. But-but would
they be in time to save Lance's beau
tiful map' 1t was not too late to do
so now. twas hanging at the back;
and there was door near it, and the
fire had not reached that part of the
building. But how would it be in
ten, even five minutes? Davie caught
his breath, trembled, and grew dead
ly pale. So little, so lame, so horri-
bly, afraid, he turned, and hobbled
back toward the burning building.
"Fire FIRE." the cry rang out on
the autumn air.
SIT must be the school house"
everybody said; for there was no
other house in that direction. Had a
coal fallen from the stovei Had
there been an imperfection in the
pipe7