Читать книгу The Young Auctioneers - Stratemeyer Edward - Страница 12
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CHAPTER IX.
THE RESULT OF A FIRE.
It was no wonder that Matt's heart was filled with dismay when he saw the stable which contained the auction outfit being thus rapidly devoured by the flames. Almost every cent he possessed was invested in the horse, wagon and stock, and if they were consumed he would be left in New York City next to penniless.
Close to where he was standing was a grocery store, and rushing into this he threw his valise on the counter.
"Keep this for me, please!" he cried to the proprietor. "I want to try to save my horse and wagon!"
And before the grocer could reply he was out of the store again, and running toward the burning stable as fast as his feet could carry him.
When he reached the front of the building, which was three stories high, and quite broad and deep, he found an excited mob of stable-hands, cab-drivers
SAVING THE WAGONY.A.
and tradespeople assembled, each trying to get inside to save his belongings.
The owner of the stable was also present, having just arrived, and was directing, or trying to direct, the movements of the highly excited ones.
"Go into the alley on the left!" he shouted. "You can get more out of the side doors. The smoke is blowing too thickly out here!"
A rush was made for the alley, and Matt got into the midst of the crowd. The side doors, to which the owner of the stable had referred, were found to be securely bolted from the inside.
"Get some axes!"
"Get a log and smash in the doors!"
"Never mind that!" yelled Matt. "I'll climb through one of the windows and open the door!"
"Good for the boy!"
"Give me a boost up, somebody!"
Half a dozen willing hands raised Matt's form to one of the small side windows, and an instant later the boy's form disappeared within the smoke-laden building.
"He can't stand it in there!"
"He'll be smothered to death!"
Once inside, Matt found it advisable to crouch low down to the floor, for the smoke did, indeed, almost smother him. He could see but little, and had to feel his way out of a stall, and across the floor to where the doors he wished to open were located.
"I'm afraid our nag will be a goner!" he thought dismally. "A horse never can stand any thing in the shape of a fire."
At last the doors were reached. Fortunately, he found the bolts at once, and lost not a second in drawing them from their sockets. Then he gave the doors a kick outward, and willing hands flung them far back against the side of the building. Then came a rush of men and boys, all eager to save something. For the moment it looked as if Matt would be carried from his feet.
"Here, don't knock me down!" he cried. "Remember, I opened the doors for you."
"So he did:" returned a burly cab driver. "Give the lad a show!"
And then Matt was given room. He quickly found his way through the smoke and heat to where the wagon stood, ready for the start on the road. The horse was but a few feet away snorting in alarm.
Matt had handled horses before, and he now knew just the best possible thing to do. Taking off his coat, he flung it over Billy's head, thus completely blindfolding him. Then he led the animal out of the stall, and started him toward the open doors.
Hi, Matt, is that you?" veiled a voice close at hand.
"Yes, Andy, and I'm glad you have come. See if you can pull the wagon out."
"Can you manage Billy alone?"
"I think I can." But Matt had his hands full, as he soon learned. Billy was not in the humor to listen and walk the way he desired. He pranced about wildly, and the boy had all he could do to keep from having his feet stepped upon.
But at last Matt managed to reach the open doors, and then he gave the horse a sharp cut on the flank, which sent him up the alley on a canter. The boy did not wait to ascertain how far Billy might continue on his way, but turned swiftly to help his partner, who was straining every nerve to budge the wagon from its resting-place.
"The floor is up-hill to the side doors!" gasped Andrew Dilks. "We can't get it out, I'm afraid!"
"We must get it out!" returned Matt desperately. "Let me get hold of the shafts and you push. And be quick, for the floor overhead looks as if it was going to give away at any minute!"
Andy did as Matt directed, and together they strained to their utmost. At first the wagon, heavily loaded, refused to budge, but then it moved slowly from its place against the wall.
"Hurrah! we are getting it!" cried Andrew Dilks. "Be sure and guide it right, Matt. Can you see, or is the smoke too thick for you?"
"I can see; but—hold on, or we'll smash into that other wagon."
Matt held back, and allowed another wagon to pass out first. In the meantime, the burning brands from overhead were coming down livelier than ever. One caught Matt on the left arm, burning the flesh slightly, and another landed on Andrew Dilks' neck, causing the auctioneer to howl with sudden pain.
Outside could be heard the whistle of fire-engines and the clanging of hook-and-ladder truck bells. Then came a heavy stream of water from somewhere behind them, nearly lifting Andy from his feet.
But the way was now once more clear, and Matt yelled to his partner to push. Both exerted every nerve, and ten seconds later the wagon rolled out of the open doors, and was guided by Matt up the alley.
"Thank goodness we are out!" panted the boy, as they brought the wagon to a standstill in the midst of half a dozen carriages. "Another minute in there would just about have settled me."
"Yes, it was getting dangerous," returned Andy, with a serious shake of his head, as he tied his handkerchief over his burned neck. "Hark! what is that?"
His words were called forth by a dull boom, which made the soft dirt in the alley quake.
"The upper flooring has come down!" shouted several in the crowd.
"They won't be able to get any more stuff out now!"
"We were just in time," remarked Matt, with a shiver. "Supposing we had been in there when that flooring, with all the burning hay and those sleighs that were stored there, came down!"
"We ought to be very thankful, not only for that, but for being able to save our wagon and our horse. If they had been burned up we would have been next door to beggars!"
"By the way, where is Billy?" cried Matt. "I don't see him anywhere around."
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Stay here with the wagon and I'll hunt him up," replied Matt; and he started off without further delay.
The alleyway had now become so choked up with vehicles, horses, and people that it was with great difficulty that he fought his way through the dense mass out to the next street. Once here, he looked up and down for the horse, but could see nothing of him.
"Did you see anything of a brown and white horse around here?" he asked of a stable-hand standing near.
"Yes; just saw him gallop up the street," was the reply. "You had better jump on a horse-car if you want to catch him."
"You saw him run clean out of sight, then?"
"Yes; he must be halfway up to Harlem by this time." Matt waited to hear no more, but boarded the first horse-car which came along bound north. He took a position on the front platform, and as they moved along kept his eyes open for a sight of the animal in which he owned a half-interest.
Ten blocks had been passed, and the boy was beginning to grow anxious, when, chancing to look over the fence of a small yard adjoining a blacksmith shop, he saw a horse standing tied to a post. A second look convinced him that it was Billy, and he at once leaped from the moving car and hurried toward the place.
"Well, sir, what can I do for you?" asked the blacksmith, a tall, heavy-set fellow, as he left his bellows, where he had been blowing up the fire.
"I'll take my horse, please," returned Matt.
"Your horse? Which horse is that?"
"The runaway you just caught."
"I haven't any runaway," returned the blacksmith boldly.
"What?" cried the boy in amazement. "Why, of course you have. He is tied to the post in the yard."
"No runaway here."
"I mean the brown and white horse."
"That horse was just left here to be shod."
For the moment Matt was too dumfounded to speak.
"To be shod?" he said at last. "Who left him here?"
"A colored man. I don't know his name."
"But he is my horse, and he doesn't need shoeing."
"I don't know anything about that," returned the blacksmith darkly. "He was left here and that's all I know about it. You'll have to hunt up the colored man, and fix it up with him if you want the horse."
