CHAPTER VI
LARRY IN DANGER
When Larry was eating supper that night he happened to glance out of the window. He saw an unusual light in the sky, and first took it for a glow from some gas furnace or smelting works across on the Jersey shore. But, as he watched, the light grew more brilliant, and there was a cloud of smoke and a shower of sparks.
“That's a big fire!” he exclaimed, jumping up.
“You're not going to it, are you, Larry?” asked his mother.
“I think I'd better,” he replied. “Most of the men are working to-night, and none of them may go to the blaze. If we want a good story we must be right on the spot. So I think I'll go, though I may find Mr. Newton or someone else covering it.”
“Well, be careful, and don't go too near,” cautioned Mrs. Dexter, who was quite nervous.
“I'll look out for myself,” said Larry, with all the assurance lads usually have.
“Take me to the fire, I'll help you report it,” begged Jimmy.
“Not to-night,” answered Larry. “It's probably a good way off, and you'd get tired.”
“Then you can carry me,” spoke the little fellow, ready to cry at not being allowed to go.
“You stay here, and I'll tell you a story,” promised Lucy, who had grown to be a strong, healthy girl since the surgical operation. “I'll tell you about Jack the Giant Killer.”
“Will you truly?” cried Jimmy. “Then I don't care about the old fire.”
He climbed up into his sister's lap, and soon was deeply interested in the story. Larry got on his hat and coat, and started out on the run. He found a big crowd in the street, hurrying toward the fire.
“They say it's a gas tank,” said someone.
“I heard it was an armory,” remarked another.
“It's neither; it's a big hotel, and about a hundred people are burned to death,” put in a third.
“Whatever it is, it's surely a big fire,” was a fourth man's response as he started to run.
Larry wanted to get to the fire in a hurry, so he asked the first policeman he met where the blaze was. Learning that it was well up town, though the glare in the sky made it seem nearer, Larry decided to get on an elevated train to save a long walk.
As he neared the scene he could see the sky growing brighter, and the cloud of smoke increasing in volume. The trail of sparks across the heavens became larger. Down in the street an ever-increasing throng was hastening toward the conflagration.
Larry dashed from the train as it slacked up at the station nearest the fire. He ran down the stairs, and through the streets. As he came into view of the blaze he saw it was a big drygoods store, which was a mass of fire. It evidently had secured a good start, as every window was belching tongues of yellow flame.
Larry found a crowd of policemen lined up some distance away from the conflagration, keeping people back of the fire lines. Fortunately Larry had a newspaper badge with him, and the sight of this, with a statement that he was from the Leader, soon gained him admittance within the cordon.
He could not but think of the first time he had been at a fire in New York, how he had helped Mr. Newton, and, incidentally, got his place on the paper.
But there was no time for idle speculation. The fire was making rapid headway, and, in response to a third and fourth alarm that the chief had sent in, several more engines were thundering up, and taking their places near water hydrants, their whistles screeching shrilly, and the horses prancing and dancing on the stones from which their iron-shod hoofs struck sparks in profusion.
Larry made a quick circle of the building, which occupied an entire block, but failed to see any reporters from the Leader. He knew it was only chance that would bring them to the place, since most of them had assignments in different parts of the city.
“I guess I'll have to cover this all alone,” thought Larry. “And it's going to be a big job.”
In fact, it was one of the worst and largest fires New York ever had. It was no small task for several reporters to cover it, and for a young and inexperienced one to undertake it was almost out of the question. But Larry decided that he would do his best.
He went at it in a business-like way, noting the size and general shape of the building, and how the fire was spreading. Then he found how many engines were on hand, and from a group of policemen, who had nothing in particular to do except keep the throng back, Larry learned that the fire had been discovered in the basement about half an hour before. One of the bluecoats told how two janitors in the place had been obliged to slide down a rope, as they were caught by the flames on a side of the building where there were no fire escapes.
Larry got the names of the men from a policeman whose beat took in the store, and who knew them. Then he heard of several other interesting details, which he jotted down. All the while he was hoping some other Leader men would happen along to aid him, and relieve him of some responsibility. But none came.
The store was now a raging furnace. The whole scene was one of magnificent if terrible splendor. High in the air shot a shower of sparks, and every now and then a wall would fall in with a crash that sounded loud above the puffing of the engines, the shrill tootings of the whistles, and the hoarse cries of the firemen.
With a rattle louder than any of the apparatus that had preceded it, the water tower dashed up. It had been sent for when the chief saw that with the ordinary machines he would be unable to cope with the raging flames.
Under the power of compressed air the tower rose high, a long, thin tube of steel. Hose lines from several steamers were quickly attached, and the engines began pumping.
Out of the end of the tube shot a powerful stream of water that fairly tore out part of a side wall it was directed against, and spurted in on the forked tongues that were leaping up from the seething caldron of fire. A cheer went up from the big crowd that gathered as they saw the water tower come into play.
“That'll soon settle the fire!” cried one man, on the sidewalk, near where the young reporter was standing.
“It will take more than one tower to put out this blaze,” rejoined a companion. “I believe it's spreading.”
Others seemed to think so, too, for there were a number of quick orders from the chief, and his assistants ran to execute them. Two more water towers were soon on the scene, and then the fire seemed to be in a fair way of being put under control.
Larry was busy going from one side to the other of the big block which the burning department store occupied. He saw several incidents that he made notes of, knowing they would add interest to the story he hoped to write.
On the north side of the structure there loomed a big blank wall, that as yet had not succumbed to the flames. A number of firemen were standing near the base of it, endeavoring to break a hole through so they might get a stream of water on the flames from that side, since to get a ladder to the top of the wall was impossible, as the flames were raging at the upper edge.
Larry paused to watch them. Fierce blows were struck at the masonry with sledges and axes. Pieces of bricks and mortar flew all about. The men had made a small hole, which they were rapidly enlarging when a hoarse voice cried:
“Back! back, men! For your lives! The wall is coming down!”
The fire-fighters needed no second warning. They dropped their implements, and sprang back. Then with a crash that sounded like an explosion, the entire wall toppled over into the street.
Several of the firemen were caught under the débris, and pinned down. Their cries for help brought scores of their comrades up on the run, and Larry pressed forward to see all there was, in order to put it into the story.
“Look out!” called a policeman guarding the fire lines. “More danger overhead!”
Almost as he spoke, a big piece of masonry-toppled down, and landed in the street not two feet from where Larry was standing, peering forward to see how the firemen fared. If it had struck him he would have been killed.
“Easy there, men!” called an assistant chief. “Go slow!”
“We don't care for the danger! We're going to get the boys out!” cried several of the unfortunate men's comrades.
“All right, go ahead, I guess most of the wall's down now,” spoke the assistant chief. “Here, you, young man!” he called to Larry. “What you doing here? Don't you know you nearly got killed then?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Larry, trying to speak calmly. “But I'm a reporter, and I have to stay here.”
“Oh, you're a reporter, eh?” asked the fireman, as he started in to help his men. “Well, I suppose you think you're like a cat, and have nine lives, but you'd better be careful! Now get back a bit, while we see if any of these poor fellows are alive.”
Larry got some distance away, though not so far but that he could see what was going on. The crowd on this side had increased in size as the word went around that several firemen were buried in the ruins.
The rescuers worked madly, tearing at the hot bricks with picks and shovels. With crowbars they pried apart big masses of masonry. The lurid flames lighted up the scene with dancing tongues of fire, and the cries of the wounded mingled with the crackle of the blaze, the toots of the engines, and the hoarse yells of the men.
With loudly clanging bells several ambulances now drew up opposite where the imprisoned men were. They had been telephoned for as soon as it was known that an accident had occurred. After several minutes' work one of the firemen was taken out. The white-suited doctor hurried to his side, and bent over the man. He listened to his heart.
“It's too late,” said the physician. “He's dead.”
Something like a groan went up from the unfortunate fellow's comrades. It was quickly succeeded by a cheer, however, as another man was brought out. This one was very much alive.
“Be jabbers, b'ys!” he exclaimed, in jolly Irish accents, “it was a hot place ye took me from, more power t' ye!” and, wiggling out of the hold of his rescuers, the fireman began dancing a jig in the light of the flames.
In quick succession half a dozen more were taken out. There were no more dead bodies, but several of the men were badly hurt, and were hurried off to the hospitals. Larry got their names from other firemen, and jotted them down.