I
knocked the hand away and prepared to take another snooze, when there
was that awful pull on my red head again. I opened my eyes prepared to
fight, when I felt an extra hard pull, and heard the wee sma' voice of
my diminutive room mate say,
"Get up, the house is on fire." "Rats," I said--Again,--the awful
pull,--and,--"Mr. Bates, for God's sake get up; the house is on fire;
the whole town is burning up."
I sprang out of bed and the crackling of the timbers, the glow of the
flames, and the stifling smoke, soon assured me it was time to move, and
quickly at that. I grabbed up a few clothes in one arm, and grasping
brave little Jimmie Swanson in the other, I started for the steps. On
our side, the whole house was in flames, and the smoke rushing up the
stair-way was something awful. I wrapped Jimmie's head in his night
shirt, and throwing a coat over mine, I started down the stairs. Half
way down my foot slipped, and we both pitched head first to the bottom.
Poor little Jim, his right arm was broken by the fall, and when he tried
to get up, he found that his one sound leg was badly strained.
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