t the boy was reviving, he sat down
on the curbstone and took him on his knee. Charlie lay in his arms and
moaned. He was a delicate boy, and he could not stand rough usage as the
Morris boys could.

Mr. Morris was terribly uneasy. His face was deathly white, and he
shuddered whenever there was a cry from the burning building. "Poor
souls God help them. Oh, this is awful," he said; and then he turned his
eyes from the great sheets of flame and strained the little boy to his
breast. At last there were wild shrieks that I knew came from no human
throats. The fire must have reached the horses. Mr. Morris sprang up,
then sank back again. He wanted to go, yet he could be of no use. There
were hundreds of men standing about, but the fire had spread so rapidly,
and they had so little water to put on it that there was very little
they could do. I wondered whether I could do anything for the poor
animals. I was not afraid of fire, as most dogs, for one of the tricks
that the Morris boys had taught me was to put out a fire with my paws.
They would throw a piece of lighted paper on the floor, and I would
crush it with my forepaws; and if the blaze was too large for that,
I would drag a bit of old carpet over it and jump on it. I left Mr.
Morris, and ran around the corner of the street to the back of the
hotel. It was not burned as much here as in the front, and in the houses
all around, people were out on their roofs with wet blankets, and some
were standing at the window watching the fire, or packing up their
belongings ready to move if it should spread to them. There was a narrow
lane running up a short distance toward the hotel, and I started to go
up this, when in front of me I heard such a wailing, piercing noise,
that it made me shudder and stand still. The Italian's animals were
going to be burned up and they were calling to their master to come and
get them out. Their voices sounded like the voices of children in mortal
pain. I could not stand it. I was seized with such an awful horror of
the fire that I turned and ran, feeling so thankful that I was not in
it. As I got into the street I stumbled over something. It was a large
bird a parrot, and at first I thought it was Bella. Then I remembered
hearing Jack say that the Italian had a parrot. It was not dead, but
seemed stupid with the smoke. I seized it in my mouth, and ran and laid
it at Mr. Morris's feet. He wrapped it in his handkerchief, and laid it
beside him.

I s