“And is your father on the department yet?” demanded Harry.
“No,” replied Bruce with a little choking sound in his voice, “he was killed at a fire some months ago and then they gave me a position on account of him.”
“Your father was killed at a fire? Oh I’m awfully sorry!” exclaimed Harry, who was an impulsive and warm-hearted, although somewhat spoiled boy, “but I’m going to tell my father about you, and ask him if you can’t come up and visit me some time. Here’s our entrance; just drive me down to the side door will you please, and I’ll get one of the servants to help me up stairs.”
Bruce helped his new friend to alight and then a man servant appeared in answer to his ring, and on learning that his young master was hurt, started off in much alarm in quest of the private tutor, but was called back imperiously by young Master Harry and ordered to “lend a hand” in getting him into the house.
As Bruce turned to leave, the boy held out his hand in a frank, straightforward way that was very agreeable and said, “I’m very much obliged to you for bringing me home, and now that I’ve got your address I’m going to write and ask you to come up and see me. My father will be mad enough when he comes home and finds what’s happened to me, because he told me I wasn’t to go off the grounds to-day. But he’ll come around all right in a week then we’ll have fun together.”
And as Bruce drove out of the handsome grounds of Mr. Van Kuren’s house, he felt that it had been a well spent and eventful day for him. He felt sure that he had made a friend in young Van Kuren, and then he fell to thinking of Mr. Dexter and his big stone house and his familiar looking porch and the little side door with its clinging vines, and he wondered for the hundredth time under what circumstances he could have seen them before.
Chapter VII.
With the possible exception of John Trask, it is doubtful if Bruce had a better friend in the whole company than Charley Weyman, who drove the truck and was looked upon as one of the nerviest and most active firemen in the battalion. Weyman had been Frank Decker’s most intimate friend, and the natural interest which he took in the son was deepened by the readiness shown by the latter to oblige his new friend and to help him in every possible way in the discharge of his duty.
It was not unnatural then that Bruce should decide to repeat to Weyman his strange experiences at Mr. Dexter’s house, and accordingly one afternoon, a few days subsequent to his visit, he said to the fireman, just as they had seated themselves for a quiet game of checkers: “There was a funny thing happened to me the other day when I went after those books, and I’d like to know if you could give me any explanation of it.”
“Well, what was the funny thing?” inquired the other, as he moved one of his men in the direction of the king row.