He hesitated a moment, and then pushing Molly towards the cripple whose taunts still rung in his ears, "Take care of the brat!" he said, and pulling off his coat, which he wrapped about his head to guard himself from the falling boards, he stooped almost double, and with his left arm bent before his face, and his right extended to feel his way, he ran towards the fire, and disappeared in the blinding smoke.
Even Mrs.Nevins was silenced for a moment of shuddering suspense; and when she tossed her arms into the air again, and shrieked, it was because John Ward came towards her with Charley trotting at his side.
"You should have looked after the child," the preacher said sternly.

"I found him on the other side of the yard, near the fire-engine." Mrs.Nevins caught the boy in her arms in a paroxysm of rage and joy; and then she thought of Tom.
"Oh, preacher," she cried, "preacher! he's run in after him, Tom Davis has!" "_There ?_" John said, pointing to the fire.

"God help him!" There was no human help possible.

Tom had run down between two long piles of boards, not yet in flames, but already a sheet of fire swept madly across the open space.

They could only look at each other, dumb with their own helplessness, and wait.