For a time the two lay silently there, Jack keeping his intelligent eyes open to everything that went on. He shivered with the cold, but still kept his post. The horses stood with heads drooping and tails hugged closely to them, and the deep, loud thuds of the working engines stationed near the burning building seemed echoed by those at work farther off. After a while the glare and showers of sparks ceased, and dark volumes of smoke rose in their stead. Then the Fire-Dog knew that the fire was out, and that Engine 33’s men would before long be released. The engines still played upon the smouldering embers, however, and it was some time before he was relieved.
They took the boy with them to the engine-house, for they knew that the homeless tenants of the empty house could not take care of him, even if they had been inclined. He could stay at the engine-house that night, they decided, and in the morning they would hand him over to the public charities. So he was wrapped up well and brought home in the wagon, while Jack ran along by the side of the engine. Jack always started out, as we have seen, bounding and circling in front of the horses, but he came home sedately. The excitement was over, and he was as tired as the men were.
They brought the boy into the engine-house and carried him up to the warm room where we first made Jack’s acquaintance. He was placed in a chair and the blanket taken off.
“Now let’s see what you look like,” said the fresh-faced young man who had rescued him. “How are you now?”
“I’m all right,” replied the boy.
“Well, that’s hearty,” said the man.
He did not look hearty, though. His face was very pale and thin, and he did not look about him as children do who have the use of their eyes.
“Can’t you see anything at all? Can you see me?” asked the young man.
“I can see a little mite of light if the lamps are lighted and if the sun shines very bright,” replied the boy.
“I suppose you are hungry, aren’t you?”