I
felt that I could not. He impressed me with a kind of awe when after the
first ladder had fallen he raised a second, as determined as before. He
would have died rather than have given you up!"

It was a long while before the thought of Walter Cunningham crossed the
mind of May Edgerton, and then she dwelt upon it but for a moment. A
fireman had become an object of intense interest to her. Blue coats,
brass buttons and epaulets sank into shameful insignificance beside the
negligent costume of a fireman, and let Hal call, "Here, May, comes a
glazed cap and a red shirt!" and she was at the window in an instant.
One day Hal returned home with a face glowing with excitement.

"I have seen him, uncle! May, I have seen the stranger fireman!"

"Where? where?" was the quick response.

"There was a tremendous fire down town to-day, burning through from
street to street. --'s book establishment, which has so long
enlightened all the country, now illumined a good part of the city in
quite another manner. The paper flew in every direction. All New York
was there, and the stranger among the rest. Every one saw him, the
firemen recognized him, and he worked like a brave fellow. There was
more than one noble deed done to-day, for many a life was in peril."
Hal's eyes glistened now, for he had saved a life himself. "The poor
girls who stitched the books had to be taken down by ladders from the
upper stories; no one can tell how many were rescued by our hero! The
flames leaped from story to story, resistless, swallowing up everything;
the giant work of years, the productions of great minds, all fading, as
man must himself, into ashes, ashes!"

"But, Hal, our fireman--did you not follow him?"

"Indeed I did!--up through Fulton into Broadway; up, up, up, until he
hurried down Waverley Street, I after him, and suddenly disappeared
among the old gray walls of the university. I went in, walked all
through the halls, made a dozen inquiries, but in vain. I reckon he is a
will-o'the-wisp."

Scarce a week, had flown by before another terrific fire excited all the
city. People began to think that every important building on the island
was destined to the flames. The hall where Jenny Lind had sung, where
little Jullien with his magic bow had won laurels, and the larger
Jullien enchanted the multitude; the hall which had echoed to the voice
of Daniel Webster, which was redolent with memories of greatness,
goodness and delight, was wrapped