An Undivided Union Part 16

"Help me--quick! The fire is coming this way!" shrieked the imperilled Confederate. "Save me, and I'll give you all I'm worth!"

"I'm coming!" answered Deck. "I wonder where the stairs are," he half muttered, as he turned toward one of the entrances to the mill.

"For gracious' sake, Deck, what are you going to do?" cried Artie.

"Going to that fellow's aid."

"But it's not safe to enter the building. The fire is working this way just as hard as it can."

"I'll risk it, Artie; I don't want to see that poor fellow die like a rat in a trap."

"Yes, but--but--"

"There is no time to waste, Artie," answered Deck, and breaking away from the hold the captain had taken, he leaped for the wide-open door of the mill.

"If he goes, I'll go too," cried Artie, and started to follow the major; but strong hands held him back.

"One is enough," said Captain Abbey. "I trust he is successful."

Captain Richland shook his head seriously. "The fire is sweeping to this quarter of the building with great swiftness," he remarked.

Into the building rushed Deck, to find himself at once in an atmosphere charged with smoke, yet not so heavily but that he could see about him.

To his left was a rough wooden stairway with an iron rod for a hand-rail. Leaping for this, he began to mount the stairs three steps at a time.

The higher up he went, the thicker became the smoke, and on the upper flooring he could scarcely breathe. Bending low, to get the benefit of any air which might be circulating, he crept along in the direction of the Confederate sufferer. He had gone but a dozen steps when he halted.

Before him was what appeared to be a solid wooden part.i.tion.

"Hi! where are you?" he called out; but the fire had now crept so close that the crackling of the flames drowned out every other sound. Feeling that it would be a waste of precious time to remain where he was, he ran along the wooden barrier from one end to the other. A door at last was found, but it was tightly closed and refused to budge.

Taking his sabre, Deck attempted to get it in the crack between the door and its frame. The point only could be introduced, and not caring to break this off, he withdrew the blade. By this time the smoke was making him dizzy, and he flew for a window to get some air.

"Help!" he heard the Confederate cry again, and now made a discovery he fancied would be of advantage to him in his endeavor to a.s.sist the unfortunate man. The window to which he had made his way was within two feet of the wooden part.i.tion, while the window at which the Confederate was calling from was an equal distance from the part.i.tion, on the other side. The two windows, therefore, were but four feet apart.

As has been mentioned, it was twenty feet to the ground, a distance great enough to cause serious results should the major take a tumble.

But Deck did not count the consequences. He was going to help the rebel if he could.

Crawling forth, he turned on the window-sill and stood upright. The framing was not over six inches in depth and was plain, affording but a scant hold. He had hardly appeared when a shout went up from below.

"There is the major now!"

"Major, look out there, or you'll break your neck!"

These and other remarks were made, but Deck paid no attention further than to "look out," whatever that might mean. In reality his gaze was fastened on the window next to him, and now he leaned over and caught hold of the edging. But at this distance the hold was too uncertain to be depended upon, and he drew back.

The question of what was to be done next was a serious one. The wind had shifted again, giving a temporary check to the fire in that direction; but it would shift back, and then Deck felt the end of the mill would be close at hand. He looked at the next window again.

A large nail caught his eye, fastened at the top of the frame. He felt that this would hold, if only he could reach it. He took off his sabre belt and examined it.

The belt was strong and so was the buckle, and leaning over he threw one end of the belt out, not once, but several times. At last a portion of the buckle caught over the nail. He pulled on the leather to make sure it would bear his weight, then swung to the sill of the next window with ease.

"Thank Heaven!" he heard the Confederate e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e. The man had been holding himself up as far as possible, but had now dropped flat on his back.

Despite the smoke, the major soon took in the situation. The Confederate had stepped upon the lever of a compressor; the jaw of the machine had opened, and his leg had been caught and held. Whether the limb was broken or not, the major could not tell; but it was certain the unfortunate one was suffering intense pain, and this, added to his fright because of the fire, made him truly an object of compa.s.sion.

"Can you--you--release me?" he groaned, and he seemed to be on the point of fainting.

For reply Deck grasped the lever and attempted to force it back. It was stuck, and he had to exert all his strength to move it even an inch.

Seeing an iron rod handy, he used it as another kind of lever, and with a click the jaws of the machine opened, and the Confederate was free.

"What shall I do?" he asked, in a whisper. "I--I can't walk."

"I will carry you," answered Deck. "Wait just a second."

He bounded along the wooden part.i.tion to where the door was situated.

The air was tremendously hot, and the wind was shifting back. As he gained the door there was a dull booming, as a portion of the flooring in another department of the mill gave way, and the whole structure began to shake.

The door was merely latched and he flung it wide open. But this created a draught, and he closed it again; then ran back for the Confederate.

The poor fellow had fainted.

The load was a heavy one, but in the excitement Deck could have carried twice the weight. Flinging his burden over his right shoulder, he staggered through the smoke. The room was now ablaze overhead, and the sparks fell thickly upon his unprotected head and neck.

"G.o.d see us both through this in safety!" was the silent prayer which came from his heart, and now the door was reached again. In a moment more he stood in the apartment he had first entered. A look of consternation spread over his pale, set face.

The fire had been at work overhead, running from end to end of the mill roof. Now it had worked its way downward, and that part of the ceiling above the stairway was a seething and roaring ma.s.s of flames and smoke.

It looked as if at any instant a portion of the roof might cave in, burying the whole stairway beneath it.

Should he risk a descent? Deck's heart almost stood still as he asked himself the question. He was brave, even to rashness; but this was very much like courting death. For the moment he thought of home, his mother, and of sweet Kate Belthorpe. Should he risk being torn from all that was dear to him?

Another booming decided him. The fire had come down behind him, cutting off his retreat. He must go forward or give up the struggle. With another silent prayer that Heaven might guide and protect him, he grasped his burden closer and advanced to the top of the stairs. Soon he was hurrying downward as rapidly as the weight on his shoulder would permit. Five steps were pa.s.sed and he paused.

A blazing board had come down directly in front of him. As he stood still, another came down, striking him on the unoccupied shoulder. He waited no longer, but, calculating as well as he could, made a clean leap to the bottom.

Luckily he landed squarely, and, though his burden made him stagger, he did not fall. As he started for the open doorway, there was a crash, and the stairway became a thing of the past. The young major had missed death by less than five seconds.

How he gained the open air, Deck could not tell afterward. The smoke was so thick he could not see, and breathing was out of the question. "Out there--help me!" he yelled, when he saw the light, and then Artie and several others ran to his aid. Two cavalrymen took the unconscious Confederate and laid him on the gra.s.s.

"Deck, are you hurt?" asked the young captain, anxiously, seeing how pale the young officer was. The major could not stand upright.

"Hurt? No--I'm--I'm--all right," was the answer; and then the gallant youth fainted dead away.

With the wounded, he was carried on a stretcher to the nearest ambulance. Artie was permitted to go along, and Captain Abbey took command of the battalion. The Confederate was placed among the wounded of his own company.

Colonel Lyon was not near the mill, and it was not until night that he heard Deck was sick. The major did not recover consciousness for an hour, and then it was found he had a fever. That night was an anxious one for both the colonel and the young captain, and the morning brought small comfort. Deck was out of his mind, and the doctor was afraid he had inhaled too much smoke, and possibly some of the flames.

"The boy meant well, but he overdid the matter," said Colonel Lyon, sadly. "I warned him over and over again to be more careful; but he was too anxious to make a record for himself to listen to me. If anything happens to him, what will his mother and the others say?"