call a friend; and little did you know the kind of key that GOD would forge, by which to open a heart towards yourself, which, young as it was, contained secrets and yearnings which had been told to no other. You were not to become Randall's friend in your own way, but in GOD's way; and, as in the great world afterwards, so now at school, you are to do His will through His appointed means.

Eustace, you may rest in peace!

CHAPTER VII.

THE FIRE.

FoGs had been unusually thick, and the nights murky; the boys were locked up early. Eustace and Randall had been sitting up to a late hour in their study, reading. They had an unusually long talk that night. Eustace had gone to his room; the same boys still slept there. He had gained some position among them; though all were not his friends, none ventured to attack him, and little Herbert looked up to him with affectionate regard. To-night Eustace had fallen asleep soon; he was tired with reading, and slept soundly. He woke with a smell of smoke. He sat up in bed-all was quiet except the snoring of the boys, and the turning of Watson in his bed; the room was quite dark. He lay down again and fell off to sleep, when he was awakened a second time by a cry of "fire!" A glare of light shone into the room, and on the faces of the boys who lay asleep opposite the window.

"Fire! fire!" was the cry over every part of the house.

Eustace sprang up. "Fire! fire, boys!" he cried; and, rousing the sleepers, he rushed from the room. He had pulled on his trousers, and with his braces tied round his waist, he ran down the passage. He found all in confusion. Boys were running from their rooms, the servants terrified, and no one exactly knowing what to do, or whence was the precise cause of alarm.

Eustace followed the smell, and found himself in the yard. One end of the house had caught fire. It had broken out in one of the unoccupied bed-rooms, and had smouldered until the windows had broken and the wind found its way in; then the flames soon ascended through the roof to the sky.

That end of the roof was old, and the timbers thickly laid; they offered ready and abundant fuel to the fire; and it spread widely. It made its way towards the boys' rooms, the wind unfortunately blowing it in that direction. The town was soon roused, and a concourse of people were fast gathering round the house. But there was great difficulty in getting water. Boys are always ready at such things, and they soon suggested a remedy for the absence of the engine. They ranged themselves in a long line from the house to the pond, some little way off, and handed up the buckets full of water. They acted with order and discipline; and had they been a fire-brigade itself, they could hardly have done better. But the fire gained ground; the voracious element advanced farther and farther, and soon the whole of that wing, which contained the boys' rooms, appeared in danger of total destruction. In vain they tried to throw water on the buildings not yet attacked. The water was too scanty and the building too old to give any hope. Eustace was most active; nearly every boy was out and engaged in the work.

The ribands of yellow flame fluttered and floated on the air. Now one window fell in with a crash-now another and through the chasm made, dark as pitch for the instant, out rolled volumes of murky smoke, as if to prepare the way for the forks of fire which pierced, and hissed, and darted, till they rolled up simultaneously into one blaze to heaven.

The building burnt quickly. The boys worked, every one in his place, with his shirt sleeves up to his elbow. As they passed the bucket from hand to hand, all were silent as so many figures walking in their sleep; the perspiration streamed from many of them. A dog, terrified, rushed through the lines; and so perfect was their extemporized discipline, that none moved a finger after the animal, nor spoke a word.

A crash within, and the burst of red ashes which rose softly to the sky, told that the staircase within had sunk. The flames ran along vividly wherever the timbers stretched.

Among them all, no one was more steadily and energetically at work than Eustace. No fatigue seemed too severe or too hard for him. But he said nothing: he went on working, shirt sleeves and neck open, passing buckets, and stealing a look only now and then at the progress of the fire. On a sudden, a cry, a piercing shriek burst out from that part which the fire had just reached; all eyes turned to the spot, and, for the moment, every hand rested and the buckets ceased working; a momentary pause in the flow of water gave the flames fresh energy; already strong, they had only been slightly kept down by the incessant volume poured upon them. The crashing, crackling streams of flame continued to burst out fresh on every side, and the remains of the roof in several places had given way.

But all eyes were turned towards the point from which the scream had sounded. At a window, whose dark background for the time appeared clear of smoke, the figure of a child was seen; the boys knew who it was. Herbert had forgotten something, and in the confusion

the poor boy had gone back to fetch it just as a crash of the falling buildings was heard, and he could not return by the stairs. Who would go to the rescue ?

"Saunders, you are tallest and strongest; you can lift him down-no other fellow can."

Saunders advanced. For a moment all was still; the buckets were quiet, while the flame in triumph waved its yellow streamers in the smoke. A ladder, the longest which could be got, was placed against the wall, the top steps were wrapped in volumes of dark smoke; but still, there was nothing else for it, and there was no time to be lost.

Saunders, who had on a tight jersey, his trowsers tied round with his braces, amid immense cheers, which were followed instantaneously by the deepest silence, began to ascend. He looked up, and shook the ladder in his hand; he felt his footing. All looked grim enough above, but many reasons prevented his shrinking, and he advanced twenty steps: twice the smoke curled away; the poor child's figure was seen and his cries heard.

"Go on, Saunders; that's right, Saunders; we'll hold the ladder, we'll catch you if you fall," were the cries through all the assemblage. Again he paused, looked up and looked down, and felt the ladder; it swerved and bent inwards. The smoke, too, obscured the window where Herbert was, and overpowered Saunders, who began to descend: he relinquished his effort, and leapt to the ground. A sensation thrilled through the boys and the

F

crowd; then the child was deserted. What was he doing in the room where he was a prisoner amid the smoke which would soon turn to flame?

"Will no one save him? Will no one make an effort for him ?"

No answer came. Some of the boys came hastily forward, longing to help in the emergency, and as quickly drew back.

At this moment a boy was seen creeping along the edge of the parapet, which was round that end of the roof. It drew attention, for Eustace's figure was soon detected. No one had seen him slide away from the rest-no one had seen him make his perilous ascent by a back stairs, which he knew would give him access to the roof. But the question was this,-How would he ever return from the all but burning pile? He trod carefully and cautiously; any footstep might be his last. He reached a position from which he could just get his foot on to the ledge of the window in question. The stretch was a long one, and required the clearest head and the steadiest eye. Eustace had committed himself to Him Who alone could help him, and was doing the work in His strength. The next moment he was lost to view: the smoke again rolled past the window, and Eustace was in the room. Some boys turned pale, others made a simultaneous rush towards the door of the burning house, but were immediately convinced of the hopelessness of an attempt to enter.

Eustace had made his daring entrance into the room. The stifling smoke choked him, and he fell, but, with a desperate effort, he roused himself. The floor was not yet on fire, but every now and then the tongues of flame flickered on one side of it; the ceiling was cracking, and all told how fast the fire was making way.