ut of the hole in the mass of
stones and timbers and bricks, led by wee bleeding Susan, crawled a slow
stream of bloody, bruised, sobbing infant humanity to be absorbed with
cries of rapture into waiting arms.

"Hurry, Goodloe, get the boy and Charlotte; my God, hurry, the beam is
sinking!" came in Nickols' smothered voice.

Martha started, but I held her tight against my breast.

"I've got Mikey's pants loose with my teeth," came in Charlotte's voice,
as a creaking of the timbers made a shudder run through the waiting
crowd as every man and woman who held a restored treasure close, waited
to see what would happen to the three left in the settling ruins.

"Come out, Mikey, come out," called the Burns paternal parent.

"I won't! I'm going to help Charlotte git out Stray," was the undutiful
response of courage to the craven.

"Where is he caught, Charlotte?" asked the parson, as he edged a little
farther under the beam, which tottered and brought him to a cautious
standstill.

"His middle. Mikey's pushing and I'm pulling, but he's all bluggy. He's
dead all but his toes that wiggle."

"Hurry, Goodloe, hurry!" groaned Nickols, with what seemed a final
inspiration of breath.

"Pull him loose and come quick, Charlotte, you and Mikey. Never mind the
blood," was the firm command and in a few seconds Charlotte and Mikey
squeezed through the fast closing opening, bloody and torn, but with
the limp Stray dragged between them. A great cheer went up as Martha
turned and caught the unconscious boy in her arms, then it froze in the
throats that had been uttering it. Slowly, but more rapidly than could
be stayed by human hands, the whole heavy roof crushed down upon the
rest of the ruin; and under it and the beam went Nickols Powers with
only one deep groan. Mr. Goodloe tried to hold up the whole side of the
roof on his own shoulders and only staggered out from the very brink of
being involved in the crash. Martha sank to the ground and hid her head
in my knees and sobbed while I heard a great cry break from my father's
lips. Nickols was the last of his race and our pride was blasted when he
fell.

"Now forward, every man of you, but lift and dig carefully," commanded
the parson, as he stood on the very edge of the ruin. "Todd, you stand
at the corner and show them how to roll back the timbers to the right.
Carefully, men, but quick, quick, and with the help of God!"

It seemed hours that the men wrestled with the timbers