"I have it," said Ralph with satisfaction, grasping the object of the old woman's anxiety.
It was high time to make an exit. Some sparks fell on the cotton. It blazed up into his face and singed his hair. Ralph found himself nearly overcome by the smoke. He fairly staggered to the window, and spluttering and scorched, almost slid the length of the ladder.
Reaching the ground the young leverman stood stationary for a moment. He dug the cinders out of his eyes, and took a good long refreshing breath of the pure air.
A call roused him to new action. The old woman was shouting at him and waving her hand eagerly.
She was not alone now. A pale-faced young man of about thirty stood by her side. Ralph presumed that this was her son, David, to whom she had so frequently referred.
"Did you get it--did you get it?" she called out anxiously, as Ralph ran up to the invalid chair.
"Yes, ma'am," responded Ralph, handing over the box.
"Oh, dear! Oh, how shall I ever thank you? David, he is a brave, noble boy!" and hugging the box to her breast, the old woman wept hysterically.
"You saved my mother's life," spoke the young man, placing a hand that trembled on Ralph's shoulder.
"I am glad if that is so," said Ralph.