y
kept. The supposed fire-proof bank crumbled in the withering blast
like so much paper; the cry went up that whole companies of firemen
were perishing within it; and the alarm had reached Police
Headquarters in the next block, where they were counting the election
returns. Thirteen firemen, including the deputy department chief, a
battalion chief, and two captains, limped or were carried from the
burning bank, more or less injured. The stone steps of the fire-proof
stairs had fallen with them or upon them. Their imperilled comrades,
whose escape was cut off, slid down hose and scaling-ladders. The
last, the crew of Engine Company No. 3, had reached the street, and
all were thought to be out, when the assistant foreman, Daniel
Fitzmaurice, appeared at the fifth-story window. The fire beating
against it drove him away, but he found footing at another, next
adjoining the building on the north. To reach him from below, with the
whole building ablaze, was impossible. Other escape there was none,
save a cornice ledge extending halfway to his window; but it was too
narrow to afford foothold.

Then an extraordinary scene was enacted in the sight of thousands. In
the other building were a number of fire-insurance patrolmen, covering
goods to protect them against water damage. One of these--Patrolman
John Rush--stepped out on the ledge, and edged his way toward a spur
of stone that projected from the bank building. Behind followed
Patrolman Barnett, steadying him and pressing him close against the
wall. Behind him was another, with still another holding on within the
room, where the living chain was anchored by all the rest. Rush, at
the end of the ledge, leaned over and gave Fitzmaurice his hand. The
fireman grasped it, and edged out upon the spur. Barnett, holding the
rescuer fast, gave him what he needed--something to cling to. Once he
was on the ledge, the chain wound itself up as it had unwound itself.
Slowly, inch by inch, it crept back, each man pushing the next flat
against the wall with might and main, while the multitudes in the
street held their breath, and the very engines stopped panting, until
all were safe.

John Rush is a fireman to-day, a member of "Thirty-three's" crew in
Great Jones Street. He was an insurance patrolman then. The
organization is unofficial. Its main purpose is to save property; but
in the face of the emergency firemen and patrolmen become one body,
obeying one head.

That the spirit which