CHAPTER V.
LARRY MAKES A FRIEND.
There was a cry from a thousand throats as Larry Barlow launched himself and his fair burden forth from the roof of the burning hotel.
The smoke and flames swirled all around the brave young man and the unconscious girl, so that for the instant they were lost to view.
Those at the net, stretched below, stood firm, although more than one man wished that the terrible ordeal was over. Should Larry and the girl come down on the head of one of the net holders there might be three deaths instead of two.
Down, down, and still down shot the pair with what seemed the rapidity of lightning. Then with a swish Larry’s feet struck the net and up he bounced like a rubber ball, once, twice, three times, and then he remained quiet for a moment.
“Saved!”
A thousand throats yelled out the welcome word, and it was as if the crowd was going mad with joy. Hearts that had stopped beating jumped madly, cheer after cheer went up.
“Hurrah for Larry Barlow! Hurrah for the young fireman!”
Then willing hands assisted him to the roadway, while others took the unconscious girl in charge and conducted her to a neighboring cottage.
“Larry, you’re a wonder!” cried Gus Romer, enthusiastically. “That was the greatest leap I ever witnessed.”
“It was great!” put in another man. “I wouldn’t have taken it for a thousand dollars.”
“Oh rats! It wasn’t much to jump into the net. He knew it was perfectly safe.”
This remark came from Lank Possy, who stood in the crowd. He was envious of the praise bestowed upon our hero.
“Lank Possy, you shut your mouth!” cried Romer, angrily. “You wouldn’t dare to jump half the distance, and you know it. Why, when the shop hands were doing stunts you didn’t dare to drop from the roof of the drying-room to the pile of shavings in the yard.”
“That’s right, he didn’t!” laughed another standing near. “He’s nothing but a wind-bag. You mustn’t mind him.”
“Am I a wind-bag? You’ll see!” growled Lank Possy. “I’ll get square with the lot of you some day. I’ll——”
“Shut up!” roared one big man, and made a move for the bully, at which he ran for his life. But he did not escape thus easily, for as he rounded a corner of the burning building some of the firemen saw him and turned the hose on him, drenching him to the skin.
The whole fire department was now working as never before, and with the L of the hotel down, the conflagration was gradually gotten under control. But the loss was great, even though the property was covered by a heavy insurance.
As soon as he felt stronger, Larry made his way to the cottage to which the girl had been taken. She was sitting up in an easy chair and doing as well as could be expected.
“I owe you my life!” she cried, warmly, as she grasped his hand. “Mr. Barlow, I shall never forget you!”
“I only did my duty as fireman,” he answered, with something of a blush.
“You risked your life to save mine.”
“Well, we have to take risks sometimes.”
“You are a hero, sir,” put in the gentleman Larry had met in the hotel hallway. “I believe they told me your name is Lawrence Barlow.”
“Yes, sir; although my friends all call me Larry.”
“My name is Richard Vern, and this is my daughter Mary. I am more than glad to know you. Rest assured that I shall reward you well for your bravery.”
“I want no reward, Mr. Vern,” answered our hero, earnestly. “I simply did my duty and that’s the end of it.”
“But it is not the end of it so far as I am concerned, my young friend. I am rich and can well afford the reward I shall give you.”
At this Larry shook his head, but Richard Vern was not to be turned aside. He had made up his mind to give Larry five hundred dollars.
“There is one thing I can’t understand,” went on Larry, after a pause. “Why was that door to the hotel room locked?”
“This is the mystery of the case,” answered Richard Vern. “I did not lock the door, nor did my daughter.”
“There was no key on the outside of the door.”
“Nor none inside,” put in Mary Vern.
“Perhaps a maid locked the door by accident,” suggested Larry.
“It may be,” answered Richard Vern. “I went out leaving Mary asleep on the couch. She had been suffering with a headache and I did not wish to disturb her. I was in the town when the fire broke out and as I ran back to the hotel at full speed I was all out of wind when I got upstairs. Then the smoke quite overcame me.”
An hour later Larry went home, meeting his sister on the way. Kate, too, had heard of his bravery and she fairly hugged her big brother.
“Larry, a regular fireman couldn’t have done better,” she said.
“I wish I was a regular fireman,” answered Larry.
Mr. Vern had asked Larry to call upon him at another hotel in the town the afternoon following, at three o’clock. Having nothing to do our hero kept the appointment promptly.
To his surprise Mary Vern met him alone.
“Troubles never come singly,” said the beautiful girl, as she greeted him in the parlor. “Papa got a cablegram this morning which called him to London without delay. He had to take the ten o’clock train so as to catch the steamer which sailed from New York at noon. He left a letter for you.”
Larry took the letter and read it. It ran as follows:
“My dear young friend:—I am called to London quite unexpectedly. I shall probably have to remain in England for a month or more. But I shall not forget you, and upon my return shall reward you well for your bravery in saving Mary’s life. I understand that you are out of employment and I beg of you to accept the inclosed as a small portion of what I think is honestly coming to you.
“Somebody last night told me that you had spoken of trying to get into the New York City Fire Department. The life of a city fireman is full of work and peril, but if you insist upon entering let this letter serve as an introduction to Mr. Paul Kessenger, who is one of the Fire Commissioners. Tell him that it is my wish that he will give you an opening if he has it in his power to confer the favor.
“Very truly yours,
“RICHARD VERN.”
In a smaller envelope in the letter was tucked away a folded-up fifty-dollar bill.
Larry’s face flushed with pleasure as he read the letter. Here was an introduction to one of the New York City Fire Commissioners. Surely that would gain him the opening for which he was seeking.
“Your father is very kind to me,” he said to Mary Vern. “I did not expect this of him.”
“He felt that he ought to do more—and he will do more when he gets back, Mr. Barlow.”
“He has done more than enough. The recommendation is all I wish. I cannot accept the money.”
“But you must accept it.”
“No, I don’t save lives for money.”
At this the girl colored up.
“Then you are—are angry at the offer!” she faltered.
“Oh, no, but—but—I don’t want money for saving you.”
He handed back the little envelope with the fifty-dollar bill and she did not refuse it.
“As you will,” she murmured. “But I shall never forget you, Mr. Barlow—never!”
They then shook hands and parted.