The heat was awful. At the turn in the staircase Dick faltered and leaned against the wall. His eyes were smarting with the acrid smoke; he could scarcely breathe. Below him the door of the first-floor room to the left was crackling savagely, the flames showing strangely red through the eddying, rolling banks of smoke. Above him the stairs were outlined with tiny tongues of fire or crimson patches of smoldering woodwork, and beyond all was dark, foul with the fumes which had poured up from the floor below. The stairs under his feet grew hot, and the wall against which he leaned a hand was like a pave on which a summer sun has beaten for hours.

His first thought had been to find a fireman and lead him to Taylor’s room, which was on the back of the house, next to that in which the fire was eating rapidly from below. But as yet he had seen no one. From the first floor came dull blows of axes tearing into the timbers and plaster. Should he go down again and summon help? But no, for scarce a dozen steps intervened between him and the door of Taylor’s room. If the ladders were being brought to the window his task would prove simple, and might be finished ere assistance could be found. And even as he hesitated there, striving to protect his aching eyes with one arm, the matter was decided for him. With a sound like that of a mighty wave breaking upon a pebble-strewn beach the fire broke through the door below, crumpling it up like a sheet of metal foil and hurling it upward in a blast of flaring cinders. Great tongues of flame burst forth into the hallway as from the mouth of a giant furnace, and as he looked the stairs behind him caught like tinder, and a breath, scorching, suffocating, rushed up, seeming to take him bodily from his feet and hurl him upon the smoking steps above.

With a gasp, he struggled to his feet and fought blindly up the remaining stairs. His escape by the front of the house was cut off. And then for the first time the possibility of finding Taylor’s door locked from within faced him. If it should be so then his work was all in vain, for he had no hope of being able to force the lock there in that deadening swirl of smoke. From the head of the stairs to the door of the room occupied by Taylor was but a half dozen feet, but Dick, with his sleeve pressed against his mouth and his eyes fast closed, won it only after what seemed ages, though from the moment he had entered the house until his groping fingers closed on the knob but a scant minute had passed. Half sick with the fear that he would find the door fast, he hesitated a second; and then, with a stifled sob, turned the handle.

The door opened, a flood of cooler air met him, and in a moment he had staggered inside and had closed the door again. At first he could see nothing, for the room was in darkness save for the little light that found its way through the window on the side of the house, and his streaming eyes hurt him terribly. He took a dozen deep inhalations of the air, which, while heavy with the fumes from the adjoining room, was pure indeed compared with that scorching, smarting breath without. Then he raised his voice.

“Taylor!” he called, and then louder, “Taylor! Taylor!”

There was no sound save the roar of the fire, the subdued noise of the shouting crowd in the street, and now and then the crash of a falling timber. He peered rapidly about him, striving in the strange ruddy half-light that rose and fell over the room to descry the object of his search. There was the bed and here, nearer at hand, the square table; beyond that was the armchair. Perhaps—— He crossed the room quickly toward it, stumbled over some obstruction, and fell to his knees on the carpet. With a leaping heart he turned. There was a crash of falling woodwork outside, and for an instant the room was bright with the light of the flames. And in that instant he saw that he was bending over the outstretched body of Roy Taylor, lying face down by the table, one arm curved under the head, the other stretched forth with fingers that clutched blindly in the darkness.

“Taylor!” Dick stooped and raised the apparently lifeless body into a sitting posture. “Taylor!” he cried again, a dreadful fear clutching at his heart. To his joy the form stirred and a groan reached his ears.

“Taylor! Brace up! You’re all right; do you hear me?”

A muttered word, low, indistinguishable, answered his appeal. He looked toward the half-opened window. Surely the ladders would be there in a moment! The smoke poured through under the door and wherever there was a crevice, and momentarily increased in volume. Dick’s eyes and lungs again gave the alarm. He shook Taylor with a sudden impulse of terror.

“Wake up, you fool!” he cried. “Get on your feet, or I’ll leave you here! Do you hear? I’ll leave you alone if you don’t wake up!”

Suddenly an arm clutched itself about his shoulders and he knew that Taylor heard him. Then, “Save me!” cried a voice weak and hoarse from terror. “Get me out, oh, get me out! Don’t leave me!”

“Well, keep awake, do you hear? Can you walk?” There was no answer, but Dick could feel the other’s body shaking with sobs. “Cut that out!” he said savagely. “Brace up, man. Try to crawl to the window. I’ll help you. Let go my arm, hang you! Let go, do you hear?” With strong fingers he broke the detaining clutch and half lifted the other to his feet. “Come on; get to the window; they’re bringing ladders!” But Taylor, weakened by his long period in bed, unmanned by his awful experience alone and well-nigh helpless in the burning house, was incapable of standing. With a rush of pity, Dick let him slide toward the floor, until by stooping and moving backward he could pull him by the shoulders across the room. There was no time to consider the injured knee. The room was filled with smoke; the heat was becoming intolerable; in the hall just outside the door the flames were crackling noisily, and to the left the plaster was breaking and falling under the heat of the fire in the adjoining apartment. At the window Dick propped Taylor against the wall and threw up the sash. Outside all was light as day toward the front of the house. He could see figures moving to and fro, could hear the cries of the fire-fighters, but no ladders were in sight. Below the lawn was some twenty feet distant. He could drop if he had to with some hope of escaping anything worse than a bad jar. But Taylor?

Suddenly, as he leaned there with the cool night air driving by him, he asked himself why he should have risked his life for Roy Taylor. Why continue to risk it? Of all fellows in the school Taylor was the last to deserve consideration, much less sacrifice, from him. He would wait as long as he could without endangering his life, he told himself, and then he’d drop from the window. And Taylor? Taylor was nothing to him; he deserved no help from him; he had injured him all that he could. Taylor must look to himself!

And yet as the thoughts rushed through his mind, he knew deep down somewhere within him that they were all wrong, and knew that though the ladders never came he would not leave the youth that sat shaking, terrified beside him.

“But they must come!” he muttered. And leaning out he called at the top of his voice for help. And then, around the corner of the house, from the back, rushed two figures and stared upward at him. They waved their hands excitedly.

“Keep up! The ladder’s coming! Can you hold out a minute?”

“Yes,” cried Dick.

Perhaps the first temptation, as feeble as it had proved, had paved the way and weakened his conscience for that which now assailed him.

“At least make him pay for it!” whispered a voice. “It is worth anything you can ask. Remember how he has injured you. Make your bargain!”

He turned suddenly toward the lolling figure.

“Taylor, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” came the answer, weak and trembling.

“Do you know who I am?” There was no reply.

“I’m Hope!”

An instance of silence followed. Then, “Hope!” came a whisper, low, incredulous.

“Yes. Listen. I can save you if—if I want to. Are you listening?” Outside were many voices on the lawn under the casement.

“Yes, yes. Save me, Hope, save me!”

“I will on one condition,” whispered Dick hoarsely, hating himself, despising himself from the bottom of his heart, yet hurrying on with his words. “The bargain you made is done with; do you understand? I’ll not give up the captaincy, Taylor, but you must promise to come back as you said you would, and help all you know how. You must promise this, and you must keep your promise!”

A ladder scraped against the boards outside, rattled once, and was still. A voice called: “Hurry! He was there a moment ago; we saw him! He can’t be far away! Look, the fire’s got through!” And as the words reached him Dick heard the sound of falling mortar, of crackling woodwork, and a great glare smote his eyes and an awful heat surged toward him, making him stagger and gasp for breath. The wall dividing the room from the front apartment was at last conquered, and the flames leaped through the breach, writhing, eager for their prey. For a moment terror seized Dick, and he could only stare in horror toward the groping tongues that scorched his face and dried the breath in his nostrils. Then, stooping quickly, he lifted Taylor’s body to the sill.

“Your promise!” he cried. “Quick!”

“Yes, yes! For God’s sake, Hope! Anything! Oh, it’s too late, too late!”

The ravening flames poured toward them, clutching at them with greedy arms. A form darkened the window and a voice cried:

“Lift him out! Easy! That’s right; can you get down?”

“I—I think so,” muttered Dick, fighting down the desire to let himself go and fall in a heap across the sill.

“Get onto the ladder, quick, and stay there! I’ll get you out of here in a second. Here, Gus, take this chap; I guess he’s fainted.” The fireman lowered himself down a few rungs, clutching Taylor’s limp form, and Dick squirmed unsteadily onto the ladder. There he held tightly and closed his eyes. The room was red with roaring, seething flames, but to him it seemed all a vast darkness. From below—or was it not rather from miles away?—came a long cheer; died away; increased again. And then Dick felt arms about him.

“Keep your head now, sir, and put your arms around my neck.” Dick obeyed as in a dream. He felt himself descending—down—down—down——

And then his head fell forward and he fainted.

When he opened his eyes he found himself lying on the grass across the village street. The world was very strange, crimson and yellow, and the trees threw great wavering shadows against the sky above. Some one was holding something to his lips, and he drank because that seemed the natural thing to do. Then a recollection of it all came back, and he tried to sit up.

“Lie still,” said a voice. Dick looked. It was Malcolm Kirk. And beside him was Trevor, looking absurdly like a red Indian in the queer light. And there was Professor Longworth, and somebody he didn’t know, and, oh, lots of other persons! It was really very silly for them to all stand around like that, and——

“Where’s Taylor?” he asked suddenly in a voice that caused him to wonder whether it was really his, so weak and husky was it.

“Taylor’s all right,” answered Kirk cheerfully. “They’ve taken him to Hamment’s. How do you feel now?”

“Kind of funny; I guess I’m sleepy; I guess I’ll go home.”

“You’re going in a minute; they’re bringing a carriage.”

Dick started up wildly, clutching at Kirk’s arm.

“Is—is anything wrong with me?” he whispered hoarsely. “Have I broken my leg, or—or anything?”

“No, certainly not. Only you’re rather weak, you know. We’re going to take you back in a carriage so you won’t have to walk.”

“Oh.” He sank back again. Then he whispered: “I can’t have anything the matter with me, you know, because there’s the crew, you see. We have to think of that.”

“Certainly,” answered Kirk very, very gravely, “there’s the crew. And here’s the carriage. And to prove to you that you’re all right I’ll let you walk over to it. Bear a hand, Nesbitt.”

Dick was raised to his feet, and to his great relief found that he could walk well enough, if a trifle unsteadily, and so reached the carriage and sank into the seat. Trevor took his place beside him, and Kirk sat by the driver, and they whirled away. Back of them the flames were still leaping heavenward, flooding the sky with a crimson radiance as they entered the academy gate.

“Are you all right?” whispered Trevor.

“Yes, I guess so; kind of tired. I was a silly chump to go and faint that way.”

“Rot!” answered Trevor vehemently. “You—you’re a blooming hero, Dick, that’s what you are!”

And for reply Dick only shut his eyes and leaned away from his chum.