“He doesn’t belong to any of us,” replies the man.
“How came he to be shut up in that hole under the stairs, then?” asks the fireman. “If it hadn’t been for the dog, he’d have been dead by this time.”
“He followed some of the children home,” replies the man, “and has been sleeping there for a few nights. I don’t know anything about him. I forgot he was there, or I’d have looked out for him.”
The cold air seems to revive the child, for he stirs and moans.
“It’s the smoke,” says the fireman. “You are all right now, ain’t you, young chap?”
“Yes,” replies the boy in a faint voice, but he makes no attempt to rise to his feet.
“I’ll fix you up in good shape,” replies the fireman, carrying him toward the engine. A wagon with blankets for the horses stands near by, and a few are still left. One of these the fireman wraps about the boy, and lays him on the floor of the wagon.
“Watch him, Jack!” he says to the Fire-Dog; and in an instant he is back in the tenement-house to join his company on the roof and help them fight the fire.
Faithful Jack cast a longing glance after the fireman’s retreating figure, for it was the first time he had failed to follow at his heels; then with a deep sigh he turned to the duty before him. With one bound to the shaft of the wagon and another to the seat, he jumped down beside the still form rolled up in the blanket.
Jack had heard the conversation between the fireman and the man from the tenement-house, and he understood that this was a child without friends or home, and with another sigh of disappointment he crept up to the little figure that lay so still in the bottom of the wagon. The blanket was drawn over the boy’s head, but Jack pushed his nose in to see whether the little fellow were alive, he lay so quietly. He found he was alive, though, for he started when Jack’s nose touched his face. He felt very cold, and the Fire-Dog crept closer still and lay beside him, hoping to add some warmth to the cold little figure.