"Fire in the Starmore apartment house!" he muttered. "The building I purchased only last month! What bad luck is this?"
Still staring at the newspaper, he passed onward behind the heavy truck. Another truck and a street car were coming from the opposite direction, and both traveling at a good rate of speed.
"Hi! look out!" yelled the truck-driver, and the street-car bell clanged violently. But the stout man was too absorbed in the newspaper to heed the warnings.
The cry of the truck-driver reached the ears of the quick-witted newsboy, and in a flash he saw the danger.
"Oh, the gentleman will be run over!" he muttered, and throwing his papers on the pavement, he made a leap into the street and grabbed the man by the arm. Just as he drew the stout individual back the truck horse plunged forward, grazing the man's side. Had it not been for the newsboy, the stout gentleman would have collapsed in the gutter. But as it was each, in a moment more, gained the pavement in safety.
"Phew! that was a narrow escape," puffed the stout gentleman, as soon as he could get back some of the wind he had lost in his consternation.
"So it was," answered the newsboy, as he stepped about to pick up his scattering stock in trade.
The stout gentleman brought out a large handkerchief and began to mop his face, for the excitement had put him into a perspiration.
"My lad, you've done me a great service," he went on, after the boy had collected his papers.
"That's all right, sir," was the ready reply. "Sorry you lost your papers. The truck cut 'em up, and they are all muddy, besides."