The on-lookers shout and scream. Exclamations, remonstrance, pity, ridicule--all find voice, and are all lost upon the daring adventurer among the flames. The engine rushes up; the firemen spring to their work: useless effort. Nobody thinks of them, or what they do; all eyes are on the blazing upper story, all thoughts for the man who is braving the flames. A crash from aloft; a cry from the multitude. The roof is falling in, and the gallant rescuer--ah! he is doomed. But no; a form comes reeling out from among the smoke and fire tongues, comes staggering and swaying beneath a burden which is almost too much for his strength. Then a triumphant yell rises from the multitude. They seize upon rescued and rescuer, and bear them away from the heat and danger. How they scream and crowd; how they elbow and curse; how they exclaim, as they bend over these two refugees from a fiery death! The rescuer has sunk upon the ground, half suffocated and almost insensible; but all eyes are fixed upon the rescued, for he is bound, gagged and blindfolded! What is he? Who is he? Why is he thus? They are filled with curiosity; here is a mystery to solve. For the moment the gallant rescuer is forgotten, or only remembered as they seek to avoid trampling upon him in their eagerness to obtain a view of the greater curiosity. They tear off the fetters of the late prisoner. They wrest the bandage from his eyes. They remove the gag from his mouth. Then curiosity receives a fresh stimulus; exclamations break out anew. "It's a nigger!" "No; look here!" "Hello, he's been playin' moke!" "He's been blacked!" "Look at his clothes, boys." "Jerusalem! he's been robbed." Then they begin their efforts to bring him to his senses; partly for humanity's sake, quite as much that they may gratify their curiosity. "He's dead, I reckon." "No; only smothered." "Stand back there; give us air." "Let's have some water." "No, brandy." "Look; he's coming to." He is "coming to". He shudders convulsively, gropes about with his hands and feebly raises his head. Then respiration becomes freer; he draws in a deep breath, sits up and looks about him. He is bewildered at first; then memory reasserts herself. He sees the now almost-demolished tenement, the crowd of eager faces, and notes the fact that he is free, unfettered. He rises to his feet, and unmindful of the questions eagerly poured upon him, gazes slowly about him. At last two or three policemen have appeared upon the scene. He shakes himself loose from the people about him, and strides toward one of these functionaries; Van Vernet is himself again. [Illustration: "A form comes reeling out from among the smoke and fire-tongues, staggering beneath a burden."--page 237.]