"Am I--am I hurted?" Freddie asked.
"Bless your little heart! Of course not!" was the answer. "But you might
have been if you had stayed where you were--not so much hurt by the fire,
for that's almost out--as by the crowd. How did you get past the fire
lines?"
"I--I didn't see 'em," said Freddie. "Back in Lakeport, where I live, we
don't have fire lines, though I've got a fish line."
"Humph! You're from the country, all right. Where do you live, and how
comes it your father let you out in the streets during a fire?"
"I live in the Parkview Hotel and my father didn't let me out. He's gone
to see the airships with Nan and Bert, and Laddie and I came out to see
the fire ourselves. Flossie stayed with her doll. Laddie went back to get
his aunt, 'cause she likes fires--I mean to see 'em--and I waited for him,
and--and----"
"Yes, I guess you don't know _what_ happened next," laughed the fireman.
"But as I want to telephone to headquarters about one of the engines that
is broken, I'll use the hotel 'phone, and, at the same time, take you back
where you belong. You're too little to get inside the ropes at a New York
fire."
"I'm going to be a fireman when I grow up," said Freddie, as the assistant
chief carried him into the corridor of the hotel.
"Well, that won't be for some time yet, and while you're waiting to grow
up don't go too near fires--they're dangerous. There you are, and I think
some one is looking for you," the fireman went on, as he saw a lady
rushing toward him when he set Freddie down.
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