Jack Winters' Gridiron Chums Part 11

They all knew of Philip Adkins, who had long been quite a character about Chester. He was said to be quite well-to-do, though those who called him a millionaire were doubtless "drawing the long bow," as people always do whenever the wealth of a miser is under consideration.

Philip Adkins lived in a big house that was unpainted; but those who had had the opportunity of seeing the inside always said he did not stint himself in the way of comfort at all, and that he was only a "peculiar" man. He had one great grudge against the world it seemed.

Other boys were straight and healthy, but for some unaccountable reason Heaven had seen fit to give him a crippled grandson. Little Carl Adkins was a pitiable looking object. They sometimes saw him shut up in a closed carriage, and being whisked through the town; but few had ever been able to pa.s.s a word with the poor boy. These reported that he was really bright, and had a woe-begone look on his drawn white face, as though his life had known little of joy.

His grandfather hated the sight of other lads, because they reminded him that his boy had none of their abounding health and good looks. He loved the child almost fiercely, partly on account of the boy's misfortune. They said he kept a servant whose main duties were just to attend to little crippled Carl.

Jack remembered an occasion when by sheer accident he had chanced to be pa.s.sing close to the property of the so-called miser, when he heard a soft "h.e.l.lo, there!" and glancing up discovered a white, peaked face amidst some vines covering a stone wall. He had heard something about the strange habits of Philip Adkins, and how jealously he guarded his deformed grandson from coming in contact with the outside world, under the belief that people would pity the lad, and some be rude enough to mock his misfortunes.

Jack had stopped and given the little fellow a friendly smile. He had even spoken to Carl, and when the boy eagerly answered him, entered into quite an animated little chat, replying to many feverish questions the other poured out, mostly concerning the things he knew other boys did, for he was a great reader, that being his one enjoyment.

Although their little talk was broken off by the sudden coming of the man-servant who looked after the crippled boy, Jack had never forgotten the last words Carl spoke to him:

"Oh! what wouldn't I give if grandfather would let me just _watch_ other boys play ball, and fish, and go in swimming!"

Jack had somehow never told any one of his little encounter with the crippled boy, but those plaintive words often rang in his ears. He had even wondered sometimes whether it would do any good if he should seek an interview with the crabbed, cross-grained old man, and try to persuade him to change his belief that he was doing right in sheltering the cripple from a rude world. But up to the present Jack had not been able to make up his mind to attempt such a bold thing.

And now, what if it turned out that this was the house that was afire, possibly set ablaze through some spark that had been carried by the wind, and lodged where it could communicate to some waste material. A peculiar sense of "coming events casting a shadow before" a.s.sailed Jack. He had a vague idea that there might prove to be more about this than mere accident. Sometimes a strange "Destiny shapes our ends," he remembered reading, "rough-hew them as we may." Mr. Adkins had determined that his poor grandson, whom he pa.s.sionately loved, should be sheltered from stinging criticism, and not allowed to mingle with his kind; but perhaps a power stronger than his will might take affairs in hand, to guide him along a new path, as his eyes were opened to the light.

There was now no longer any doubt concerning the ident.i.ty of the doomed structure. Joel loudly declared it to be the Adkins house, beyond question.

"And let me tell you, fellows, it's going to be a tough job for our firemen to save any part of the old building, because the blaze has got such a good start I reckon old Philip will have to put up a really modern house in place of the old rookery."

"He's got the cold cash to do it, boodles of the stuff!" panted Phil Parker.

The Adkins house was surrounded with fair-sized grounds, in which no doubt the little prisoner took his daily const.i.tutionals, crutches in hand, though his world must indeed have seemed exceedingly small to the poor chap.

The gate was now open, and people pouring in through the gap, all expressing a great interest in the prospect of any part of the structure being saved.

"But you can depend on it the old fellow has got it well insured," one man was saying to another as they pushed through the opening. "Trust old Philip for always looking out for the safe side. But she'll make a big blaze before they manage to get enough water going to smother the flames."

Just then the boys pushing closer toward the house that stood amidst clouds of billowing smoke saw some one rushing frantically about. It was old Philip Adkins himself, and he certainly looked almost crazed with excitement. At first, as was only natural, the boys rested under the belief that it was the possible loss of his house and its contents that made him act so wildly; but when they heard what he was shrieking they realized that he had good cause for acting so.

"Oh! won't some of you _please_ go in and save my poor boy? I believed his attendant was with him, and had carried Carl out; but the man had slipped away after putting his charge to bed, and was over in town, amusing himself in a tavern, I've just found out. Save the poor child, and name your own reward, for I'll go mad if anything happens to my boy!"

CHAPTER XV

IN THE BURNING HOUSE

Something must have happened to delay the coming of the firemen, for as a rule they were prompt to reach the scene. Possibly their engine had broken down again, as had happened once before; which accident caused such a talk that public sentiment was aroused, with the result that a new, modern auto-engine was ordered, and a paid department arranged for.

"Look here, boys, we ought to do something about this!" exclaimed Jack Winters, thrilled with what he had heard the sobbing old man cry out.

Philip Adkins turned toward him frantically. He certainly did not hate boys just at that moment in his life, when it seemed that perhaps he would have to depend on them for the help he was demanding.

"Oh! don't lose any time, I beg of you!" he cried. "I tried to rush indoors myself, but some men caught hold of me, and said I'd surely smother in the smoke. If I thought my poor Carl was lost, nothing could keep me from going in. Save my boy for me, and any favor you ask will be granted; but hurry! hurry, or it will be too late!"

Jack saw that the old man was wild with fear. He reached out and took hold of him by the arm.

"Get a grip on yourself, Mr. Adkins," he said, in that steady voice of his that generally acted so soothingly on those whom Jack addressed.

"We'll try to get him out for you. But first tell me where his room is?"

"Upstairs at the first turn; but the hallway is full of smoke by now, and oh! I even fear the fire has reached there!" cried the old man, wringing his hands pitifully as he spoke.

"Try to point out the window of his room to me!" continued Jack, steadily.

Eagerly Mr. Adkins consented to do so, even dragging the boy around with him as he thrust up a hand and with trembling finger pointed upward.

"That one you see with the sash lowered. We try to keep him from any chilly draughts. When you push up the front stairs you must turn to the left, and enter the small pa.s.sage. Don't lose any more time, or it will be too late! Go! please go!"

"We might make a human chain, and push up the stairs that way,"

suggested Phil Parker. "Then, even if one fellow does get dizzy inhaling all that terrible smoke he won't be apt to drop down. Jack could be at the end of the chain, always pushing ahead as we added on to it here at the open door!"

Some of the others seemed to think that a pretty clever idea, judging from the exclamations that arose all around. But Jack believed he knew what might be a safer way than the scheme thus proposed.

"Hold on," he told the others, "I've got an idea that beats yours all hollow, Phil. Leave it to me, fellows."

With that Jack sprang forward.

"I understand what he's got in his head!" cried Toby Hopkins. "It's the grape-arbor! Don't you see it lies just under that window. Fact is, a fellow can climb right up to the sash as easy as anything."

"Bully boy, Jack; you know how to manage it all right!" exclaimed Steve, admiringly, though truth to tell he had never once doubted but that Jack would discover a means to the end, as he nearly always did.

Jack was climbing fast. He knew that in a case like this seconds count. That pungent wood smoke was a terrible thing, and if Carl lay helpless at its mercy for a given period of time the chances were no power on earth could restore the little cripple to life; for his const.i.tution was far from robust at the best, and consequently he must succ.u.mb much more speedily than would a stronger boy.

Beaching the top of the arbor Jack started to crawl along the bars heading toward the window. He had already arranged his simple plan of campaign. There was indeed only one thing he could do, which was to enter the room, and finding the lad manage in some fashion to get him to the window, and down to the ground.

"Be ready down there when I want your help!" he shouted to the rest of the gang; for what with the loud cries of new arrivals and the crackling of the flames close by it was necessary to raise one's voice in order to be heard.

One look downward Jack took just before he arrived at the side of the house. It was light enough now to see easily, for the fire had broken through, and the entire grounds seemed illuminated with the glow. He saw the faces of his numerous comrades turned upward toward him, intently watching his progress. And others had gathered around, too, intensely interested in the outcome of the affair; for they realized that it was a rescue that the football player had in hand.

There amidst the rest Jack picked out the weazened-up face of the old man. He would never so long as he lived forget that, there was such a world of apprehension, of piteous appeal in the look old Philip Adkins was bending upon him; as though all his remaining hopes of a little happiness in this world centered now upon the gallant boy who had undertaken to save his Carl.

Then Jack reached the side of the house. It felt warm to his touch, a fact that gave him a sudden fear that the worst might have happened to the crippled boy beyond the window.

One effort he made to raise the sash, but it seemed stuck, or else was locked. There was no time for halfway measures, and accordingly Jack, tearing loose a broken section of a wooden bar that formed part of the top of the trellis, smashed the window with several blows, after warning those below to get from under.

He took pains to clear the sash from any projecting fingers of gla.s.s that might have given him trouble in the shape of severe cuts. Then without another glance at the spectators gathered below the boy proceeded to crawl swiftly through the opening, heedless alike of the smoke that was oozing forth in thick volumes, or the possibility of his striking the fire itself, once he had entered the house.

They saw his heels vanish through the gap. Something like a gasp arose from some of the gathered crowd, constantly augmented as fresh arrivals came running up, to ask what had happened, and who it was they saw entering through that window.

Some seemed to consider it a rash thing to do. These for the most part were women who had not yet grasped the fact that Jack was not risking his life out of sheer bravado, but that it was believed the poor little cripple had been abandoned in his room through mistake, and it was Jack's intention to save him if he could.

Then their opinions changed like magic, for their hearts filled with sympathy. Even the sobbing old man became an object of pity, though up to then few in the crowd had been heard to express any sorrow because it was Philip Adkins' house that was afire. This was owing to his unpopularity in Chester, where he never gave to any charitable object, or for that matter even treated folks decently in his bitterness toward all mankind because his poor boy was so deformed, and stricken by a cruel Fate.