Page 121 - An Amateur Fireman

CHAPTER XVI.

WINNING A MEDAL.

The struggles and screams of the child he was trying to save served to confuse Seth, and the smoke, which
was growing more stifling each moment, bewildered at the same time that it choked him.

But for the lectures the boy had heard at headquarters, neither he nor the baby would have left the apartment
alive.

He realized the vital necessity of keeping a "grip on himself," as Josh Fernald had expressed it, and, in order
the better to do so, repeated again and again the words of the instructor.

During the first dozen seconds he tried to soothe the child, and then came the thought that the little one would
suffocate more quickly by inhaling the smoke-laden atmosphere as she gasped and sobbed violently.

A garment--perhaps it was a table-cloth or a light blanket--hung over the back of a chair near at hand, and this
Seth wound around the baby's face, regardless of its struggles.

"A clear head is the next best thing to a ladder," he said again and again, repeating the words of Mr. Fernald,
and all the while searching for a rope, or something which would serve him in its stead.

By this time the room was completely filled with smoke, and his eyes were blinded, smarting, burning.

Near the window was a footstool, and seizing this with one hand he hurled it through the glass.

Fresh air was a necessity now; he must have it, or speedily succumb to the deadly vapor.

Holding the child, who was apparently in a paroxysm of fear, or a spasm caused by pain, close against his
breast, he thrust the upper portion of his body through the aperture regardless of the sharp fragments of glass
which cut his flesh cruelly.

What a blessed relief was this first indrawing of comparatively fresh air!

The "clear head" was coming to him rapidly, and he understood that unless aid could be summoned from
below he must make immediate battle with the vapor again, for with every moment the flames on the landing
were increasing.

"Ninety-four!" he shouted at the full strength of his lungs. "This way, Ninety-four!"

He could hear from below a tumult of shouts and commands; but none of them appeared to be an answer to
his cry.

The roaring of the fire as it came through the elevator-shaft could be clearly distinguished even above all the
noise, and he knew full well the blaze must soon make its way through the door, which presented but a frail
barrier against the on-rush of flame.

"Ninety-four! Here, Ninety-four!" he cried once more without receiving a reply, and feeling comparatively
strong for another struggle against the smoke, he drew the covering more closely around the child's head, at
the same time stepping back into the suffocating vapor.

He made his way by sense of touch rather than sight into the adjoining apartment.