Larry Barlow's ambition

After remaining near the Pollox mansion for some time, Larry walked across town, took an elevated train and rode down to his own home, on Second avenue.

As he passed up the semi-dark stairway he heard talking in the kitchen of the rooms he and Kate occupied.

“Yer needn’t git on yer high-hoss about it,” came in the voice of Bill Buck. “I ain’t goin’ ter hurt yer, Kate Barlow.”

“I want you to go away, Bill Buck,” was the reply from Kate, and her voice trembled with emotion. “I don’t want your attentions, so there!”

“But why won’t yer be nice ter me? It won’t cost yer nuthin’.”

“I won’t—that’s why. Now go.”

“Not so fast, I ain’t goin’ just yet.”

As he spoke, Bill Buck stepped toward Kate, who started to retreat to the next room.

He was close to the girl when of a sudden he received a blow in the ear that all but paralyzed him.

“Leave my sister alone!” came in a stern command from Larry. “Leave her alone, you impudent rascal.”

“Larry!” ejaculated Kate, much relieved. “Oh, how glad I am that you are here.”

“Wot did yer hit me fer?” demanded Bill Buck, as he staggered away from the table against which our hero’s blow had sent him. “Do you want ter fight?”

“If you don’t get out in a hurry I’ll kick you down the stairs,” returned Larry. “And don’t you dare show your face in this house again, or dare to say a word to my sister on the street.”

“Won’t I? You t’ink——”

What Bill Buck thought Larry thought was never expressed in words, for without further ceremony our hero caught him by the shoulder, swung him around and started him for the hallway.

“Lem—lemme go!” screamed the big newsboy, but Larry’s blood was up, and with a rush he carried Bill Buck to the stairs and gave him a shove. Bump! bump! bump! down the stairs went the fellow, howling with pain and fright. Before he could get up, Larry was on him again, and down the next stairs went the newsboy, yelling louder than ever. Then Larry finished by rushing him across the sidewalk and into the gutter, with a parting kick that Bill Buck remembered for long afterward.

“I’ll wager he won’t come here again,” he said to Kate, on coming upstairs again. “He’s scared out of his skin.”

“I hope he doesn’t come again,” she answered. “I was awfully frightened when he came in.”

Kate was much worked up and it took some time to calm her down. She had been expecting Larry, knowing it was his day off, and asked why he had not come earlier.

When he told his story of what had occurred at the Pollox mansion her face grew grave.

“What a villain he must be, Larry!” was her comment.

“That’s just what I think.”

“What shall you do next?”

“I don’t know yet. I want to think it over.”

“Be careful he doesn’t try to get you in his power.”

“I shall keep my eyes open—don’t fear,” he answered.

Larry spent a pleasant evening at home with Kate. Before retiring he took another look at his model of an extension ladder.

“I’m going to do something with this before long,” he said; “just as soon as I can get to the bottom of the mystery concerning father’s disappearance.”

The following morning found Larry at the engine house as usual. During the next three days there were several small fires, but nothing of any importance.

“We’re having an easy spell of it,” said Randall, “but we’ll have to pay up for it, mark my words.”

It was the truth, for on the following day, late in the afternoon, a large and particularly nasty fire broke out on one of the docks fronting the East River.

The dock was piled high with lumber and barrels of oil, and by the time the firemen got there was burning fiercely in a dozen places.

“Here’s an all night job, boys,” muttered one of the men. “And something hot, too.”

The oil made a fearful blaze and a roaring which attracted thousands to the scene.

As the burning barrels burst, the oil floated out into the river and set fire to several small craft which could not be gotten out of the way quick enough.

Of course the river and harbor fireboats came to the scene, but they had their hands full with boats, so that the fire on the dock itself was left almost entirely to the land department.

Larry helped to stretch several lines of hose onto the dock and did his full share at the front. It was hard work, and by midnight everybody was all but exhausted. Yet the firemen had to stick to their duty, and they did, in the face of a heat which was fairly blistering.

“My, but this is a corker,” gasped Larry, as he ran back to get a whiff of cool air. The sparks burnt him on the neck and the eyebrows, and they would have burnt his clothing had he not been saturated with water. The smoke caused the tears to run down his cheeks in streams.

“It’s a big one,” answered the foreman. “We’ll do well to keep it from spreading.”

To the north of the dock was a long basin, separating that dock from the next. In this basin several vessels had been lying, but all had escaped save one, a two-masted schooner, of the square, old-fashioned type.

The schooner now took fire above, her masts and tarred ropes burning like so many huge torches and fiery wands.

“She’s a goner,” muttered Larry, as he saw the fire descend to the deck and begin to lick up the tiny forecastle.

Of a sudden there came a loud cry from the schooner, as a sailor rushed from the cabin.

“Save me!” roared the sailor, who had been sleeping so soundly he had heard nothing of the conflagration.

Scarcely had he spoken when a number of barrels of oil close to the edge of the dock began to explode. The burning fluid was carried in all directions, and soon the whole forward part of the schooner’s deck was in flames. The sailor went shrieking back to the cabin, thinking his escape cut off.

“He must be saved,” cried the chief of the fire department, who had come on the scene.

He called for volunteers, and Larry and another fireman named Burnam stepped forward.

There was no time to argue the matter, and in a trice both our hero and Burnam were making their way toward the schooner.

They had to leap over a stream of burning oil to gain the deck. The smoke was thick, and the heat more intense than ever.

Keeping close together, they ran into the cabin and found the sailor on his knees praying to Heaven that he might be spared the torture of being burnt alive.

“Come quick!” cried Larry, and caught the dazed man by the arm.

“But the fire—it is all around the ship!” gasped the seafaring man.

“No—there is one way to escape—but you must hurry, or it may be cut off,” said Burnam.

Together they got the sailor to the deck. The fire had now reached another stack of barrels and again the oil was popping loudly and sending the sheets of flame in all directions.

Then of a sudden came a heavy explosion, which lifted the schooner high in the air. Down she came with a loud splash, and then began to sink.