Scarce a week, had flown by before another terrific fire excited all the city.  People began to think that every important building on the island was destined to the flames.  The hall where Jenny Lind had sung, where little Jullien with his magic bow had won laurels, and the larger Jullien enchanted the multitude; the hall which had echoed to the voice of Daniel Webster, which was redolent with memories of greatness, goodness and delight, was wrapped in the devouring element.  Hal Delancey was quickly on the ground, but the strange fireman already had the pipe of his company.  He walked amid the flames with a fearless, yet far from defiant air, reminding Hal only of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in the fiery furnace.  He was everywhere, where work was to be done, gliding over sinking beams, the example for all, giving prompt orders, as promptly obeyed, every fireman rallying around him with hearty good will, all jealousy cast aside, their watchword “Duty.”

Towards morning, when the danger to other buildings was past, Harry closely watched the stranger, who seemed to mark him too, and with two members of his company determined to follow him and find out who he was, not only that his cousin and her father might have the poor felicity of thanking him, but because he was himself entranced by the manner of the man, and like May, saw something mysteriously beautiful shining through his eyes.  The three—­a young lawyer, a Wall Street merchant, and Hal—­now tracked the fireman’s steps with a “zeal worthy of a better cause.”  Hal did not think he was showing any very good manners in thus pursuing a person who quite evidently did not wish to be known; still he had once accosted the stranger in a gentlemanly manner, and received no satisfactory reply, so now he had decided, cost what it might, to make what discoveries he was able to, with or without leave.

This time it was down, down Broadway, through Fulton to Peck Slip.  The stranger’s light, almost boyish form moved swiftly, but evenly onward, while behind him fell the measured tread of Hal and his companions.  Arrived at the pier, instead of crossing over by the ferry, the stranger unloosed a small boat, and springing into it, seized the oars, turning back a half scornful, half merry glance at his pursuers.  Hal was not to be outwitted thus.  He quickly procured a boat, and the three soon overtook the stranger.  They rowed silently along, not a word spoken from either boat, the oars falling musically upon the waves, darkness still brooding over the waters.  The stranger made no attempt to land, but held on his course up the East River until they approached Hurl Gate.

“I do believe we are following the devil!” exclaimed the lawyer, suddenly, recalling some of his questionable deeds, as he heard the roar of the whirlpools, and saw the foam glistening in the dim light.

“He never came in such a shape as that!” laughed Hal, whose admiration of the stranger momentarily increased as he watched his skilful pilotage.