  Touched with reckless bravery, foolhardiness in fact, as Rob’s act had appeared to be, yet he had not acted without taking due thought. As always in emergencies, his mind worked with great swiftness. He had no sooner made up his mind that it was his duty, cost what it might, to save that innocent little one’s life, than he had hit upon a plan. If the child was lodged in the center of the building, he knew full well that long before its life must have been yielded up to the fire demon. But if the quarters of the janitor were, as he believed, in the south corner of the school, then there was still a chance. The mother’s words had put him out of all doubt on this score and Rob instantly determined to face the most daring act of his life. The rooms at the south side of the building had been used by the Academy boys as a gymnasium before their present quarters were built, so that Rob was thoroughly familiar with the stairways leading to them. So far as he could see it would be possible, by using a side door, to dodge the flames shooting up the center of the building. There was a winding stairway that existed on this side of the structure quite independent of the main flight which, by this time, must have fallen in. With Rob, to arrive at a decision was to act upon it. As we have seen, he had lost no time in making for the doorway. He had, in fact, a double reason for his haste. For one thing, every second would count, and, for another, he realized that to many in the crowd his act would appear to border on madness, and that an attempt might be made to hold him back. “The boy’s a fool!” yelled someone in the crowd behind Merritt. Quick as a flash Rob’s chum faced around, indignation shining in his eyes, which had, a second before, been dimmed with tears. “No, sir; however Rob makes out, he’s a hero,” he shot back, while a murmur of approbation ran through the crowd. “Keep your places, boys,” he ordered the next instant, for the Scouts, half wild with anxiety and excitement, were beginning to waver and allow the crowd to surge forward. Merritt’s words stiffened them. In a moment they were recalled to a sense of that duty of which they had just witnessed such a conspicuous example. The instant Rob crossed the threshold of that door he found himself surrounded by smoke. But he bent low, and throwing his coat more closely above his head, he crouched on all fours so as to get below the level of the acrid fumes that made his eyes smart cruelly. Suddenly he stumbled over something, and as he saw in the dim light what it was he gave a glad gasp. It was a bucket of water, left on the stairway after the regular Saturday scrubbing. Rob was a Scout who knew, from careful study of his Manual, just what to do in emergencies. He recalled now that in case of being compelled to enter a smoky, blazing building, it was recommended to bind a wet cloth over mouth and nostrils in such a way as to act as a respirator. Instantly he saturated his handkerchief in the water and bound it on his face in the manner advocated. Then he began what was to prove a terrible climb. The school was three stories in height, the lower two floors containing study rooms and offices and the top floor lumber rooms and the apartments occupied temporarily by the janitor. Breathing with more ease now that he had bound up his face, Rob fought his way upward. It was as murky as a pit, and it seemed that the stairs were interminable. Suddenly he stumbled and fell headlong. He had gained the first landing. Through a door opening upon it jets of flame, like serpents’ tongues, were beginning to shoot. Rob staggered toward the door and slammed it to. He knew that this was absolutely necessary, for in the case of the staircase being in flames when it came time for him to retrace his steps his retreat would be cut off. But that was a thought he did not dare to dwell upon. Steeling himself anew he pushed stubbornly on to the next flight. “It’s lucky I know this place as well as I do,” he thought, as he gamely kept up the fight against what appeared almost overwhelming odds. As he climbed higher it grew hotter. The place was like the interior of a volcano. Beyond the wall of the stairway Rob could hear the flames roaring like the beat of the surf on a rocky coast. It almost seemed as if the fire demon possessed an articulate voice and was howling his rage and defiance at the boy who had dared to face his terrors. But, hot as it was growing, Rob yet found some small grain of comfort in the fact that the smoke was not so thick. He breathed more freely even if his throat was becoming dry as dust and whistled in an odd way as he climbed higher. At last he reached the summit of the second flight. He paused irresolutely on the landing. Several doors opened off it. Now that he was actually there, Rob was confused for an instant. He was not quite so sure of his bearings as he had thought he would be. But the roar of the flames below and about him warned him to lose not a second of precious time in procrastination. He plunged into the door nearest at hand. Within he found himself in a room which was evidently a dining room. Supper was ready spread on the table. A lamp illumined the scene. How odd it seemed to be gazing at this peaceful domestic setting, while below and to one side of him, devouring flames were roaring and leaping. Save for a strong smell of smoke and a slight bluish haze, the room might have been a thousand miles away from the flaming building in which it was located. Suddenly, as the boy stood there looking swiftly about him, there came a crash that shook the whole place like an earthquake. “A floor’s fallen!” gasped Rob. “Pray heaven it’s not taken any part of that stairway with it!” Brave as he was, the young scout turned pale and actually shook for an instant like a leaf. He knew full well that if that stairway, or any part of it, was gone, he was doomed to die as irrevocably as if a death sentence had been pronounced upon him. All at once, from a room opening off the dining room came a wailing cry. “Muvver! Muvver, I’se fwightened!” Rob’s heart gave a quick bound and he galvanized into instant action, a great contrast to his temporary state of stupefaction! “All right, youngster. Don’t cry, I’m coming,” he called out, plunging forward. Inside the room was a small crib, with a child about three years old lying on it clasping a doll in her arms. “Who’s oo?” she demanded in some alarm, as Rob, with his handkerchief tied over his face, advanced. “Me? Why—why, I’m a fireman,” exclaimed Rob; and then, with an inspiration, “Let’s play that the place is on fire and I’m going to save you.” The child clapped her hands and her eyes shone. Rob picked her out of her crib and carried her tenderly out of the room. “Now I’m going to cover your face just like real firemen do,” he said, as they emerged on the landing and the hot breath of the furnace below was spewed up at them. “Is dat in de game,” inquired the child doubtfully, “an’ will oo cover dolly’s, too?” “Yes, it’s all part of the game,” Rob reassured her. “Now then, there we are.” He enveloped the child in his coat which he had already removed and started for the landing. Suddenly he stopped, and from under the coat came a muffled but inquisitive voice: “Is ’oo cwyin’, Mister Fireman?” No, Rob was not crying; but he had just seen something that made his breath come heavingly and his heart almost stop beating. Below him he could see a dull red glow, growing momentarily brighter. No need was there for him to speculate on what that meant. The stairway was on fire. His one means of escape from the blazing building was cut off. For an instant Rob’s head swam dizzily. He felt sick and shaky. Was he to die there in that inferno of flames? A cry was forced wildly from his cracked lips. “Not like this! Oh, not like this!” he begged, raising his eyes upward. |
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