he Bennett medal for that. And d' ye know about the
rescue he made up in Williamsbridge, when that barrel of kerosene
exploded? Oh, but the prettiest thing Ahearn ever did was-- Then each
man will tell you a different thing.

The driver's favorite story was of the night when Ahearn ran back into a
burning tenement on Delancey Street, "where nobody had any business to
go, sir, the fire was that fierce." It was fine to see his face light up
as he told what his chief did on this occasion, and the whole quiet
engine-house seemed to throb with pride.

"You see," he went on, "there was a half-crazy mother screaming around
that her baby was in the building. As a matter of fact, the baby was
all right--some neighbors had it--but the mother didn't know that, and
the chief didn't know it, either. He was chief of the 4th Battalion
then; now he's deputy chief--been promoted, y' know. Chief or not didn't
cut any ice with him, and he just wrapped a coat around his head and
went in. He got to the room all right where the woman said her baby was,
and it was like a furnace; so he did the only thing a man can do--got
down low on his hands and knees and worked along toward the bed, with
his mouth against the floor, sucking in air. He went through fire, sir,
that nearly burned his head off--it did burn off the rims of his
ears--but he got to that bed somehow, and then he found he'd done it all
for nothing. There wasn't any baby there to save.

"But there was a chief to save now. He was about gone when he got back
to the door, and there he found that a spring-lock had snapped shut on
him, and he was a prisoner, sir--a prisoner in a stove. He didn't have
any strength left, poor old chief; he couldn't breathe, let alone batter
down doors, and we'd had some choice mourning around here inside of a
minute if the lads of Hook and Ladder 18 hadn't smashed in after him.
They thought he'd looked for that baby about long enough. The last thing
he did was to kick his foot through a panel, and they found him there
unconscious, with his rubber boot sticking out into the hall.

"Tell ye another thing the chief did," continued the driver. "He rescued
a husband and wife in the Hotel Jefferson, out of a seventh-story
window, when the whole business was roaring with fire. That's only about
a month ago; it was a mighty sad case. We had three people to save, if
we could, and two of 'em sick--the husband and wife--and the third was
a trained nurse taking car