but desperate
errand.

A half-hour later the bell in the engine-room tinkled softly once, and
then rang savagely again and again to "hoist away." The great wheel
turned fast and faster; the piston-rods flew in and out; the iron
ropes hummed as they cut the air; and the people at the shaft's mouth
waited, breathless with suspense, to see what the blackness would
yield up to them. The carriage rose swiftly to the surface. On it four
men, tottering and exhausted, were supporting an insensible body in
their midst. The body was taken into strong arms, and borne hurriedly
to the office of the breaker, a little distance away. Then a boy
staggered off the carriage and fell fainting into the outstretched
arms of Bachelor Billy.

"Ralph!" cried the man, "Ralph, lad! here! brandy for the child!
brandy, quick!"

After a little the boy opened his eyes, and gazed wonderingly at the
people who were looking down on him. Then he remembered what had
happened.

"Mr. Burnham," he whispered, "is--is he alive?"

"Yes, lad; they've took 'im to the office; the doctor's in wi' 'im.
Did ye fin' the air bad?"

The child lay back with a sigh of relief.

"Yes," he said, "very bad. We got to 'em though; we found 'em an'
brought 'em out. I carried the things; they couldn't 'a' got along
'ithout me."

The carriage had gone down again and brought up a load of those who
had suffered from the fire. They were blackened, burned, disfigured,
but living. One of them, in the midst of his agony, cried out:--

"Whaur is he? whaur's Robert Burnham? I'll gi' ma life for his,
an' ye'll save his to 'im. Ye mus' na let 'im dee. Mon! he done
the brawest thing ye ever kenned. He plungit through the belt o'
after-damp ahead o' all o' them, an' draggit us back across it, mon by
mon, an' did na fa' till he pullit the last one ayont it. Did ye ever
hear the like? He's worth a thousan' o' us. I say ye mus' na let 'im
dee!"

Over at the breaker office there was silence. The doctor and his
helpers were there with Robert Burnham, and the door was closed. Every
one knew that, inside, a desperate struggle was going on between life
and death. The story of Burnham's bravery had gone out through the
assembled crowds, and, with one instinct and one hope, all eyes were
turned toward the little room wherein he lay. Men spoke in whispers;
women were weeping softly; every face was set in pale expectancy.
There were hundreds there who would have given all they had on eart