It was not by the united efforts of Sudsville that Clancy and Kate had been dragged from the flames, but by the individual dash and determination of a single man:  there was no discrepancy here, for the ten or a dozen who were wildly rushing about the house made no effort to burst into it until a young soldier leaped through their midst into the blazing door-way, was seen to throw a blanket over some object within, and the next minute appeared again, dragging a body through the flames.  Then they had sprung to his aid, and between them Kate and “the ould man” were lifted into the open air.  A moment later he had handed Mrs. Clancy her packet of money, and—­they hadn’t seen him since.  He was an officer, said they,—­a new one.  They thought it must be the new lieutenant of Company B; and the colonel looked quickly around and said a few words to his adjutant, who started up the hill forthwith.  A group of officers and ladies were standing at the brow of the plateau east of the guard-house, gazing down upon the scene below, and other ladies, with their escorts, had gathered on a little knoll close by the road that led to Prairie Avenue.  It was past these that the adjutant walked rapidly away, swinging his hurricane-lamp in his hand.

“Which way now, Billings?” called one of the cavalry officers in the group.

“Over to Mr. Hayne’s quarters,” he shouted back, never stopping at all.

A silence fell upon the group at mention of the name.  They were the ladies from Captain Rayner’s and a few of their immediate friends.  All eyes followed the twinkling light as it danced away eastward towards the gloomy coal-sheds.  Then there was sudden and intense interest.  The lamp had come to a stand-still, was deposited on the ground, and by its dim ray the adjutant could be seen bending over a dark object that was half sitting, half reclining at the platform of the shed.  Then came a shout, “Come here, some of you.”  And most of the men ran to the spot.

For a moment not one word was spoken in the watching group:  then Miss Travers’s voice was heard: 

“What can it be?  Why do they stop there?”

She felt a sudden hand upon her wrist, and her sister’s lips at her ear: 

“Come away, Nellie.  I want to go home.  Come!”

“But, Kate, I must see what it means.”

“No:  come!  It’s—­it’s only some other drunken man, probably.  Come!” And she strove to lead her.

But the other ladies were curious too, and all, insensibly, were edging over to the east as though eager to get in sight of the group.  The recumbent object had been raised, and was seen to be the dark figure of a man whom the others began slowly to lead away.  One of the group came running back to them:  it was Mr. Foster.

“Come, ladies:  I will escort you home, as the others are busy.”

“What is the matter, Mr. Foster?” was asked by half a dozen voices.

“It was Mr. Hayne,—­badly burned, I fear.  He was trying to get home after having saved poor Clancy.”