L. Were you at the great fire last night?
R. Yes; Tom Harding and I helped work one of the engines.
L. Did you see that boy go up the ladder?
R. Yes; wouldn’t I like to be in his shoes! They say the Humane Society are going to give him a medal; for he saved a baby’s life and no mistake—at the risk of his own, too; everybody said so; for the ladder he went up was all charred and weakened, and it broke short off before he got to the ground.
L. What boy was it!
R. Nobody could find out, but I suppose the morning paper will tell us all about it.
L. I have a copy. Here’s the account; “Great fire; house tenanted by poor families; baby left in one of the upper rooms; ladder much charred; firemen too heavy to go up; boy came forward, ran up; seized an infant; descended safely; gave it into arms of frantic mother.”
R. Is the boy’s name mentioned?
L. Ay! Here it is! Here it is! And who do you think he is?
R. Do not keep me in suspense.