In the hall was a maid-servant, who was wringing her hands.
"Where is the fire?" asked Gerald.
"On the third floor. Poor Mr. Nugent——"
"Well, where is he?"
"In the room where the fire broke out. He is in a faint. He will be suffocated!"
Alonzo Crane was captain of the fire company in Hillsdale, and had all his wits about him.
"Follow me, Gerald," he said, as he dashed up-stairs.
He attempted to open the door of the room from the windows of which he had seen the smoke pouring, but Mr. Nugent's body was lying on the floor in such a position as to prevent the door being opened. But the two, by pushing forcibly, succeeded in getting it open. The muslin curtains of the front windows were in a blaze, and the flames had spread to the neighboring woodwork.
"Tear down the curtains, Gerald," said Mr. Crane. "You will soon have help. I hear the engine outside. I will attend to the old gentleman."
With the strength which might naturally be expected from a blacksmith, he took up the old man in his arms, and carried him down-stairs. It was none too soon. Mr. Nugent was in a faint, and was half-suffocated by the smoke. On his way Alonzo met some of the Portville firemen, whom he directed to the room. Taking the old gentleman down-stairs he laid him on a couch in the sitting-room and summoned the servant.