nee, 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 windows 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
let 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 sat, and trembled, and did not leave him again. I shall never forget
t