“No,” replied his father. “It is never best to call out for help, unless you are sure you need it. My room was very near. I remembered that my pitcher was full of water in my wash-stand. I ran and got the pitcher, and went into the room which the smoke was coming from. I saw a great blazing by the side of the fireplace.”
“And did you run and pour your water on?” said Rollo.
“No,” replied Mr. Holiday; “I didn’t pour it on, for in that case a great deal of it would have all run down upon the floor, and been wasted. I went up to the place, and put my hand into the pitcher, and began to sprinkle the water on as fast as I could, and it put the fire right out at once.”
“What was it that was burning?” asked Rollo.
“A basket of chips,” replied his father.
“A basket of chips!” repeated Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father. “It seems that the man who occupied that room had gone out without taking down his fire, and he had left a small basket, with a few chips in the bottom of it, near the corner. Now, while he was gone, one of the sticks of wood had burned off, and the two ends outside of the andirons, not having been burned at all, were heavy; and so the ends of the stick fell over, one on one side and the other on the other. The stick which fell over towards the basket, threw a coal against it and set it on fire; and the basket, being very dry and thin, burned very fast. Scarcely any thing of the size makes a greater blaze, than a basket, for it is thin, and of such a form that the air can get to it on both sides.”
“That was a narrow escape,” said Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father, “I think it was.”
“And I expect the landlord thanked you for saving his house from burning up,” said Rollo.