n Pearl, he ran up in the
adjoining building, and presently appeared at a window on the third
floor, separated from the one occupied by the two men by a blank
wall-space of perhaps four or five feet. It offered no other footing
than a rusty hook, but it was enough. Astride of the window-sill, with
one foot upon the hook, the other anchored inside by his comrade, his
body stretched at full length along the wall, Howe was able to reach
the two, and to swing them, one after the other, through his own
window to safety. As the second went through, the crew in the street
below set up a cheer that raised the sleeping echoes of the street.
Howe looked down, nodded, and took a firmer grip; and that instant
came his great peril.

A third face had appeared at the window just as the fire swept
through. Howe shut his eyes to shield them, and braced himself on the
hook for a last effort. It broke; and the man, frightened out of his
wits, threw himself headlong from the window upon Howe's neck.

The fireman's form bent and swayed. His comrade within felt the
strain, and dug his heels into the boards. He was almost dragged out
of the window, but held on with a supreme effort. Just as he thought
the end had come, he felt the strain ease up. The ladder had reached
Howe in the very nick of time, and given him support, but in his
desperate effort to save himself and the other, he slammed his burden
back over his shoulder with such force that he went crashing through,
carrying sash and all, and fell, cut and bruised, but safe, upon
Fireman Pearl, who grovelled upon the door, prostrate and panting.

The other case New York remembers yet with a shudder. It was known
long in the department for the bravest act ever done by a fireman--an
act that earned for Foreman William Quirk the medal for 1888. He was
next in command of Engine No. 22 when, on a March morning, the Elberon
Flats in East Eighty-fifth street were burned. The Westlake family,
mother, daughter, and two sons, were in the fifth story, helpless and
hopeless. Quirk ran up on the scaling-ladder to the fourth floor, hung
it on the sill above, and got the boys and their sister down. But the
flames burst from the floor below, cutting off their retreat. Quirk's
captain had seen the danger, and shouted to him to turn back while it
was yet time. But Quirk had no intention of turning back. He measured
the distance and the risk with a look, saw the crowd tugging
frantically at the life-net