Alexander had all the excitement he wanted, for he fought
the fire as hard as he had fought the hurricane, and he was delighted
when the Captain gave him permission to turn in. This was his third
touch-and-go with death.
He arrived in Boston late in October, and took passage immediately for
New York. There had been no time to announce his coming, and he was
obliged to find his own way to the house of Hercules Mulligan, a member
of the West Indian firm, to whom Mr. Cruger had given him a warm letter
of introduction. Mr. Mulligan, a good-natured Irishman, received him
hospitably, and asked him to stop in his modest house until his plans
were made. Alexander accepted the invitation, then started out in search
of his friend, Ned Stevens, but paused frequently to observe the queer,
straggling, yet imposing little city, the red splendour of the autumn
foliage; above all, to enjoy the keen and frosty air. All his life he
had longed for cold weather. He had anticipated it daily during his
voyage, and, although he had never given way to the natural indolence of
the Tropics, he had always been conscious of a languor to fight.
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