Bruce awoke at a very early hour in the morning and found himself in a clean, white, comfortable bed, which was not his own. His eyes were dim and there was a soreness in his lungs when he tried to breathe. He was conscious, moreover, of dull pains in his arms and legs, and he felt as weak as if he had just recovered from a long fit of illness. He did not know where he was and he did not care, his only wish being to lie perfectly quiet and if possible to go to sleep again. He closed his eyes for a moment or two and then his natural instincts seemed to return, so he opened them again and stared curiously about him. He was in a long, high room, with plenty of light and air in it and a row of tall windows stretching along one side of it. There were other cots similar to his own in the room, and each one had its occupant.

For some time he rested quietly on his back, moving his head slightly, from time to time, in order to see everything in the room and wondering the while, whether he were asleep or 170awake. Then an indistinct remembrance of the exciting events of the day before returned to him, and it seemed as if he were still breathing the hot smoke which had filled the burning building.

“How do you feel this morning?”

These words were uttered in a soft, womanly voice, and on turning his head, he saw standing by his bedside one of the prettiest young ladies he had ever seen. Her dress was of a quiet Scotch plaid, and she wore over her dark hair a most becoming little white cap, of a style that was perfectly new to him.

“I feel queer,” was his simple answer and then he asked, with a faint show of interest: “How did I get here, and where am I?”

“You’re in good hands and you’ll soon be well again, Bruce, but you must be careful not to move about too much in your bed or to worry yourself unnecessarily,” was the young lady’s reply, but although it was uttered in the gentlest and most reassuring tones, he could not help noticing its evasive nature, so he repeated his question, “Where am I?”

“You’re in an hospital, and you must stay here until you are well enough to go out again,” said the young lady, and then as she saw a look of dismay coming to the boy’s face, 171she continued, “But you needn’t be afraid, for it is a very nice hospital, indeed, and you will have everything that is good for you, and I am sure that you will get well very fast. Now shut your eyes again and try to go to sleep, and by and by I will bring you some breakfast.”

The young lady with the white cap inspired so much confidence in the young boy that he dismissed all anxiety and curiosity from his mind, closed his eyes and was soon in a deep sleep, from which he did not awaken until nearly all the rest of the sleepers in the big room were either sitting up in bed or dressed and walking about. He felt much more refreshed now, and as he stared about him, he wondered what had become of the young lady, and how soon she would bring his breakfast to him.

“Hay, boss, wot place is dis?” said a piping voice close beside him, and as Bruce turned his head, he saw in the cot next to his a face that seemed familiar, and was connected in his mind in some way with the fire and smoke and excitement of the day before. It was the face of a boy, and a very homely little boy at that. It was a boy with a freckled face, turned up nose, and a pair of sharp, small, blue eyes, which looked at him from under a thick mat of coarse 172red hair which hung down over his forehead in rebellious locks, and added measurably to the foxy expression of his face.

“Who are you, anyhow?” demanded Bruce.

“I’m Skinny de Swiper, an’ I’d like ter know wot dey brung me here fer.”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said the other, and then he added with a smile “I don’t even know what I’m doing here myself, but where do you come from? Where do you live when you’re home?”

“Sometimes one place, and sometimes anudder; last week I got a job in a factory over in 18th Street, but dere was a fire dere, an’ I guess I muster got burned up. I kin just remember a bloke collarin’ me an’ and trowin’ me down a ladder; he muster been a fireman.”

The boy’s simple explanation cleared some of the cobwebs out of Bruce’s mind, and he suddenly recalled his entrance, with the hose under his arm, into the burning building and the boy whom he had dragged through the window and down the ladder to the street. “I guess,” he remarked, “that I’m the bloke that carried you out.”

“Come off!” said the boy in a tone of mingled scorn and incredulity, “dere ain’t no kids 173like you in de fire department, an’ I guess I’d oughter know.”

“Very well then,” replied Bruce, annoyed at the other’s contemptuous words, “maybe I’m not in the department, but I helped to put that fire out all the same. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t be here now.”

He would have said more if he had not been interrupted by the young lady with the white cap, who came up to him at this moment in company with another young lady d............