Ralph in the Switch Tower Part 31

An old woman in a wheel chair blocked the doorway of the front room.

Apparently this was her only means of getting about. She had tried to escape, the chair, had got wedged in the doorway, and she was moaning and crying for help.

"Is that you, David?" she gasped wildly, as her smoke-blurred eyes made out Ralph.

"No, but I am here to help you," answered Ralph in a cheery, encouraging voice. "Don't worry, ma'am."

Ralph soon extricated the chair. As he ran it and its occupant out into the open air, the front windows blew in from the intense heat, and the flames swept through the house.

Ralph ran the chair to a high point of safety.

"Don't go any further," panted the old woman. "My son David is due home. He will be worried to death. I want to be where I can see and call to him, when he comes."

"Very well," said Ralph, "you are safe here, at least for the present. I will run back and save what I can in the house."

"No, no," demurred the old woman quickly. "There is nothing worth saving. The furniture is old and insured. So is the house. Oh, I am so thankful to you!" she cried fervently.

"That is all right," said Ralph. "I am sorry to see you homeless."

"How did the fire come?" questioned the woman. "From Gasper Farrington's new railroad?"

"Yes," said Ralph, "some oil cars on the switch spur took fire, and exploded."

"Then he is responsible!" cried the woman eagerly. "And his factory is burning up, isn't it? It's a retribution on him, that's what it is,"

she declared hoa.r.s.ely. "He ran his tracks over our land without permission. He spoiled our peaceful home. Won't I get damages from him, as well as my insurance money?"

"I think your chances are very good," answered Ralph.

The old woman looked somewhat comforted. She sat mumbling to herself.

Ralph wished to hurry over to the factory. He offered to wheel her to a shelter nearer the town, but she insisted she must wait in sight of the house until her son arrived.

Ralph did not like to leave her alone. The gra.s.s might catch fire and the flames spread, even to the place where they were now. He stood surveying the fire interestedly, when his companion uttered a sudden scream.

"Oh, my! oh, my!" she wailed, wringing her hands. "How could I forget!"

Ralph pressed closer to her side.

"Is something distressing you?" he asked quickly.

"Oh, yes! yes!" said the woman. "Is the house all on fire? No, there may be time yet. Boy, will you--will you do something for me?"

"Surely, if I can."

"In the house--something I must save."

"What is it? In what part of the house?"

"Not mine. It is a sacred trust. It is something I promised faithfully to look after. Oh, dear! dear! if it should be burned up!"

"Try and be calm, and tell me about it," advised Ralph.

"It is upstairs--in the rear garret room."

Ralph looked up rather hopelessly at the little window fully twenty feet from the ground.

"How do the stairs run?" he asked.

"Only from the front. You can't go that way, though," panted the woman.

"It's all ablaze. But there is a ladder."

"Where--quick."

"Behind that old grape trellis."

"How long is it?" asked Ralph.

"It reaches the roof. My son used it in shingling. Take a hatchet or a club with you. The window is nailed down on the inside, very tightly.

You will have to smash the window in. Is it too late?"

"Not at all," declared Ralph briskly.

"The roof is all on fire!"

"Never mind that, only be quick and tell me: what is it you want me to get?"

"There's only one thing in the room. An old trunk."

"An old trunk?" repeated Ralph rapidly.

"It's all tied up with rope. Smash it open, too. Inside is a tin case, a small flat tin case. That's what I want. Oh! you will get it, won't you?" pleaded the old woman, in a fever of suspense and excitement.

"I shall certainly try," declared Ralph.

"Don't risk your precious life by any delay, dear, dear boy!" cried the old woman hysterically. "I believe I should die of worry if that box was burned up. I promised so sincerely to take care of it. What would Mrs. Davis say if it was lost!"

"Who?" cried Ralph sharply, with a great start.

"Mrs. Davis."

"The woman who lived next door?"

"Yes, yes. She left it with me, about a month ago. She was afraid to keep it with herself. I promised----"

But Ralph was listening no longer. A great conviction filled his mind that at this critical moment, amid fire and peril, a crisis in his life faced him.

CHAPTER XXV--THE LITTLE TIN BOX