Larry Barlow's ambition

It was truly a perilous situation. The planking of the burning dock wedged Larry and the sailor in on all sides, while the oil from the bursted barrels flowed all around them.

“We’ll be burnt alive!” moaned the old sailor, as he clutched our hero’s arm.

“We must get out, somehow,” panted Larry. “Come; follow me!”

With frenzied haste he threw one plank after another from him. His hands were blistered, and likewise his face, while his hair was singed more than once.

His actions gave the old sailor a little courage, and he too, began to liberate himself.

“Oh, for a stream of water!” groaned Larry.

The words had scarcely been uttered when spat! the water from one of the hosepipes hit him fairly in the breast, knocking the wind out of him. But the water was just what was wanted, and it revived both Larry and the sailor greatly.

“Give me your hand,” said the young fireman.

“I—I can’t—my foot is caught!” was the answer.

Larry bent down and both tugged away at the beam which held the old sailor’s foot a prisoner.

At last with a crack it gave way, and both found themselves free.

But the fire roared and crackled all around them, and they knew not which way to turn.

The water continued to come their way, and soon it was lowered, thus cutting a path through the burning dock for them.

They moved forward cautiously but with all possible speed. Larry was afraid of some hole in the dock, into which they might go and be unable to get themselves out again.

But Providence was with them, and at last only a small belt of flames flared up between them and the safety beyond.

“Help, help!” cried the young fireman. “Play away this way!”

“By heavens, somebody is in there!” he heard in reply, and then the water reached them once more, and another path was beaten down for them.

But the sailor could no longer stand.

“I’m done for,” he groaned, and, reeling, fell like a drunken man on the burning flooring of the dock.

In a trice Larry had him in his arms. Then came a dash and a couple of mighty leaps, and our hero fell at the feet of the firemen who were fighting the flames at that point.

“Hullo! It’s Larry Barlow,” was the exclamation which went up.

“Is he dead?”

“No; but next door to it.”

“He has the sailor with him.”

“Where is Burnam?”

But poor Burnam was nowhere to be seen. As a matter of fact his leap into the burning oil had cost him his life, and his half-burnt corpse was found floating in the bay two days later.

The sailor was unconscious and Larry was too weak to stand, while suffering intensely from his burns. An ambulance was summoned to the spot and in this both were carried to the nearest hospital. There Larry fainted from pain and did not come completely to himself until several hours later.

The oil dock fire was one long to be remembered. Directly after Larry left the scene the wind came up, and as a consequence the fire spread in several directions.

A general alarm was sent out and the firemen had to work until the afternoon of the next day before the gigantic conflagration was fully under control.

Larry’s bravery in rescuing Caleb Backstay was the talk of both the public and the fire department, and all of the daily newspapers took up the matter, and some of them published pictures of our hero and the old sailor.

“He’s a brave one, if ever I knew such,” said Larry’s captain. “He ought to have a medal.”

“And he will have,” said Commissioner Paul Kessenger. “He’s one out of a hundred, not but what all of our laddies are brave.”

During the following day Kate came to see Larry at the hospital.

“Oh, I am thankful you escaped!” she murmured as she gave him a sisterly kiss. “Larry, you must be more careful in the future.”

“I only did my duty, Kate,” he answered, and tried to smile, but the smile was a good deal of a failure, for his head was wrapped in bandages.

A little later a messenger brought a beautiful bouquet of flowers. With this came a card, on which was written:

“Bless Mary!” he murmured, as he smelt of the bouquet and placed the flowers where he could look at them all the time. But when he looked he didn’t seem to see the flowers—he saw Mary’s face.

The old sailor was worse off than Larry, and for a long while it was a question whether he would live or die.

“I hope he lives,” said Larry to Kate a few days later, when he felt more like talking. “I want to hear what he has to say about father.”

“Father!”

“Yes, Kate; he once knew father, and he started to tell me something about him.”

And then our hero related what had been said under the dock.

“Oh, if he only does recover!” ejaculated the girl. “I must get the hospital people to do their best for him.” And she did.

Two weeks later Larry found himself out of the hospital. He tried to report for duty, but was told to go home for a week and rest up.

“You deserve it, Barlow,” said his superior. “What you did at that fire will be a credit to you as long as you live.”

“Oh, stow it, captain; you would have done as much had you been in my place.”

“I hope so; but still that doesn’t take away from your pluck. You’ve got a backbone to be proud of.”

“Can I come back next Monday?”

“If you wish. But you needn’t report until Wednesday so far as I am concerned.”

“Thank you.”

“You had better take it easy and let all your burns heal up perfectly.”

“I’ll take it as easy as I can. But I’m a pretty active fellow, you must remember,” and Larry smiled feebly.

“I know it, Barlow. But there is a limit to all things. You keep quiet,” and then the captain turned away.

Larry walked home slowly. He might have taken a street car, but thought the journey in the fresh air would do him good.

He was within several blocks of the house, when on turning a corner, he came face to face with Lank Possy.

The bully of Ferryville was on a sight-seeing tour, and was accompanied by several city chums.

“Hullo, you!” cried Possy, and his face grew dark.

Instead of replying, Larry started to walk past Possy and on his way home.

But the bully would not have it and caught him roughly by the arm.

“I’ve got an account to settle with you,” he cried, seeing that Larry was alone and that he himself was backed up by two friends. “I’m going to settle it now.”