the front windows and a dense
living mass blocked the door against which Topliffe Briggs flung all his
weight.

[Illustration: HE HELD FAST!]

"Git in ef you ken," he said to the fireman. "I'll try Her!" He fastened
the shaggy great-coat up to his chin as he faced the pursuing fires,
walked forward to the stand where lapped and curled the fiercest flames,
laid hold of steam-brake and the lever by which he "drove" the engine.
His fur-lined gauntlets scorched and shrivelled as he grasped the bar;
the fire seized upon his hair and garments with an exultant roar. He
held fast. He must get the passengers off the floorless bridge that
might ignite at any moment. He must check the engine as soon as he
cleared the last pier, or the cars would take fire before they could be
uncoupled. He shut his eyes from the maddening heat and glare, and drove
straight on. Not so fast as to hurry the greedy flames that were doing
their worst upon him, but at a rate that ran them over the river and
upon solid earth as the fuel in the tender burst into a blaze and the
forward car began to crackle and smoke in the hot draught. At that point
steam and air-brakes did their work in effecting a safe halt.

"The fireman was badly scorched," reported the press next day, "but
train and passengers were saved by the heroism of the engineer."

The words flashed along the wires over land and ocean; were set up in
startling type in hundreds of newspaper offices while he who did not
know heroism by name was breathing his last on a mattress laid on the
yellow-painted floor of the room he had seen so "clear" when the
engine-throb and piston-beat played _Home, Sweet Home_. The sunshine
that had followed the rain touched the white cheek of the opened lily
before falling on his sightless eyes and charred right hand.

When they brought him in he knew whose silent tears dropped so fast upon
his face, and the poor burned lips moved in a husky whisper. The wife
put her ear close to his mouth not to lose his dying words:

"_I was afraid you'd see that we was a-fire. From the winder. I hope
you--didn't--wake Junior!_" The boy who had begged his father to be a
hero!

BENNY'S WIGWAM.

"Now, Pettikins," said Benny Briggs, on the first day of vacation, "come
along if you want to see the old Witch."

Pettikins got her little straw hat, and holding Benny's hand with a
desperate clutch, trotted along beside him, giving frequent glances at
his heroic face to