"Charles, I am ruined if I cannot save my private box. What am I to do?" Wild Charley surveyed the situation, and concluded that, though hazardous in the extreme, an attempt might be made to enter the burning house. "Where is the box?" was Charley's only question. "Under the bed in my room. But, for Heaven's sake, do not be rash." Wild Charley said nothing more. He ran past the firemen and gained the front door, regardless of cries to stop which arose from many throats. The staircase was on fire, but he dashed through the flames, which licked his body as if they had him in deathly embrace, and was soon lost to sight. Suddenly a tremendous shout arose. Standing on the roof of the house was perceived the figure of Charley, who held a box under his arm. So far his desperate enterprise had been successful, but he knew not how to regain the street, as the burning of the staircase had cut off all retreat. The firemen now raised their ladder-like apparatus against the side of the flaming house, and Charley commenced his descent, but when about halfway down, the crowd saw him disappear. The roof had given way. Wild Charley was precipitated into the midst of the flames, and everyone was convinced that he was beyond help now. Mr. and Mrs. Floyd and the young gentlemen were taken into the house of a sympathizing neighbor, where the grief of the schoolmaster and his wife had full vent in private. Their sorrow for the loss of their son was overwhelming. Nobody bestowed any attention upon Tommy and Bobsey, who watched the efforts of the firemen until they had conquered the flames. When the gray dawn of morning broke upon the snow-clad scene, the engines were playing upon a smoking, smoldering mass of charred and blackened fragments, under which lay the burned body of Wild Charley. "What'll we do now?" asked Tommy. "I told you," replied Bobsey, "as 'ow I'd got another place at Dr. Slasher's, and he'll 'ave to take you, too." "I guess he won't want two boys; but I'll come for nothing, only my board." "He's standing at his door now," said Bobsey. "I'll go and speak to 'im about you." Tommy waited impatiently while his friend went to make an application on his behalf to Dr. Slasher. The doctor was quite a character in his way. Being moderately well off, he was not dependent on his practice for a living. He had served in the war and lost a leg, which he had replaced by a cork one, with a stick at the end of it instead of a boot. He was hot-tempered and impulsive, and fond of using the expression, "Never in the wide, wide world," if he had made up his mind not to do a particular thing. When Bobsey approached him he was smoking a cigar. "This 'as been somethin' of a fire, sir," exclaimed Bobsey, "and I'm burnt hout. Will you take me in as you promised?" "Certainly," replied Dr. Slasher. "When I make a promise I keep it. You shall be my errand boy--take out the medicines and make yourself generally useful."