Bob's heart beat wildly as he crept up the stairs, for he had resolved to let no one stop him if he could help it, knowing that it would go hard with him if he again fell into King's hands. He reached the top of the flight without hearing any one and quickly passed through the dining room to the front hall, and for the second time since his imprisonment, he was at the front door. The hall had a vestibule and just as he succeeded in getting the inner door open he heard a key turn in the outer door, and before he had time to dodge back, it swung open and Reed entered.

Coming thus suddenly face to face, it would be hard to say which was more at a loss what to do, but as soon as he could speak, Reed gasped, "You?"

"Yes, me," answered Bob, "and if you don't step aside and let me pass, some one is going to get hurt and don't you forget it."

"Where's Jim?" Reed demanded, shutting the door.

"What's left of him is down stairs, and I rather guess he'll stay there a while."

As Bob had taken the precaution to lock the door of the laboratory after he came out and had the key in his pocket, he felt that he had little to fear from that quarter for a time at least, even if King had come to.

"Your little game is up," he continued, "and you might as well step aside and save trouble and perhaps your head as well."

"Think so?" sneered Reed, and Bob saw him reach his hand back toward his hip pocket and before he was able to spring forward, he was looking into the barrel of a .32.

"Now, my young friend, I rather guess you will reconsider your conclusion. I don't want to hurt you, but I'd much prefer putting a bullet through you to letting you get away. Now, about face and march down to the laboratory again, and no monkey shines, or this here gun will be apt to go off, for when I get excited, my finger gets twitchy, and remember, if it does go off, the bullet will come out of the end that's pointing at you."

All this had probably not taken over a minute, but during that time, Bob had been doing some quick thinking and had resolved that, gun or no gun, he was not going to lose this chance. They passed out into the dining room, Reed following Bob at a distance of perhaps six feet. Reaching the door, at the head of the stairs, Bob pretended that he was trying to open it.

"It seems to be locked," he said, "Guess the wind must have blown it shut."

"Well, hold on a minute, I've got a key in my pocket."

Bob turned and saw that Reed had lowered the revolver a little as he searched his pocket for the key. It was the chance he wanted. Like a flash he leaped, and before the startled man could raise his arm, his wrist was seized and given a powerful twist, which sent the revolver spinning to the other side of the room. Reed, maddened to the point of frenzy, struggled with all his strength, and he was no mean antagonist, but Bob knew that he was fighting for his liberty, if not for his life, and fought as he had never fought before. Round the room they struggled, knocking over the chairs as they fought. Once the man got the boy down on his back, and with his hand on his throat, began to choke him, but Bob managed to squirm over, and, getting to his knees, flung one arm round Reed's neck, and giving a powerful twist made him lose his hold. Both quickly rose to their feet and stood facing each other, panting for breath. Suddenly, catching sight of the revolver on the floor near his feet, Reed made a move toward it. But the movement gave Bob the chance he wanted, and, springing forward, he swung his right arm with all the strength he could muster. His fist landed squarely on the man's right eye, and he went down in a heap. He was not knocked out, but the blow gave Bob time to grab up the revolver, and by the time Reed was on his feet again, he took his turn at looking down the barrel.

"Now, my old friend, I guess I'll have to ask you to recognize that conclusion you spoke of a few moments ago. This thing don't look quite so good at that end, does it? Give my regards to your friend below, if you can get enough life in him to accept them."

So saying, he backed out of the room into the hall, still pointing the revolver at the man, who stood looking daggers at him, but not daring to move, and this time reached the street without mishap.

"Whew!" he thought, as he slipped the revolver into his pocket, "that was some exciting time while it lasted. Well, I'm free at last and I'll take mighty good care that they don't get me again. Wonder which way I'd better go?"

Although well acquainted with a good part of Boston, as he looked about him he had no idea in what part of the city he was, except that it was one of the poorer districts.

Coming to the harbor front, he turned toward the south, judging that the ferry was in that direction. He had gone but a few squares, when he heard the cry of fire, and glancing down a side street which led to the water's edge, he saw a number of men and boys running toward an old house near the water and about a square from where he was standing.

"Guess I'll see what's doing," he thought as he turned and started to run down the street.

Coming opposite the house, which stood somewhat apart by itself, he saw that it was a three-story frame structure, and the flames were already visible through the windows of the first floor, while smoke was pouring from those of the first and second stories.

"It won't last ten minutes," said a man standing next to him, "the walls will fall in before the fire engine gets here."

"Are the people all out?" asked Bob.

"Dunno, guess so. Don't see any one, do you?"

But, at that moment, a figure appeared at a front third-story window and shouted for help. At the sound of the voice, Bob's heart almost stopped beating, and shading his eyes with his hand, he gazed eagerly upward. "It can't be possible," he thought, "but that was Jack's voice sure as guns, and what's more, it looks like him." Just then, the boy gave another wild cry for help.

"My soul, that's Jack," he groaned, "sure as fate. Quick," he shouted, "where's a ladder?"

The cry was taken up by the crowd, and in a minute, a man pushed his way through the crowd, carrying a fairly long ladder. Eager hands seized it and raised it toward the boy, but alas for their hopes, it reached only to the middle of the second story window, too short by nearly eight feet. Bob gave a groan, but just then he saw a store on the opposite side of the street, and rushing across, he darted in. "A coil of rope," he shouted, but there was no one there. Just at that moment, however, a man rushed in, and hearing Bob's cry, darted to the back part of the store, to return almost instantly, dragging about twenty feet of rope after him. Snatching the end of the rope from his hand, Bob rushed back across the street rapidly coiling it as he ran. By the time he reached the foot of the ladder the smoke and flames were pouring from the windows in great clouds and the entire front of the house was tottering.

"Can't do it," shouted a man, "it'll fall before you can get up."

"I'm going to do it anyway," muttered the boy as he started to ascend.

The heat was terrific, and the smoke nearly choked him, but he fought his way upward rung by rung. It seemed that he would never reach the top, as the rungs of the ladder were so hot they fairly blistered his hands and the walls threatened to fall at any moment, but he did it, and bracing himself by putting one foot through the ladder, he grasped one end of the rope in his right hand, holding the coil in his left.

"Now, Jack, catch it," he shouted.

"Great guns, Bob, how'd you get here?"

"Never mind now, catch this rope," and he threw it up toward the window with all the strength he had left, which was not very much. By rare good fortune Jack caught it.

"Quick, now, fasten it to something, this wall won't last much longer."

Jack disappeared for what seemed to Bob a long time, but at last he saw him at the window again.

"I've got it," he shouted.

"All right, now, come down while I hold this end."

Jack swung himself from the window and came down the rope hand over hand and soon had his feet on the top rung of the ladder.

"Now, quick, we haven't a second to lose," cried Bob, as he started to descend. "Are you all right?"

"Sure thing, look out, I'm coming," shouted Jack.

By this time several of the rungs were on fire, and two or three broke as Bob stepped on them, but he managed to keep his hold, and, reaching the ground, looked up to see Jack half way down. But, now the ladder was so weakened that, as the boy stepped on to the next rung, it swayed and broke fairly in two, and at that instant, the entire front of the building fell in with a tremendous crash.

Jack, however, was safe. He had felt the ladder, as well as the wall, going and had managed to throw himself backward away from the burning building. He fell only about eight feet and landed on his feet unhurt. Running quickly back, away from the intense heat, the two boys hugged each other in a frenzy of joy, while the crowd set up a great shout of gladness.

"You saved my life, old man, but for mercy sakes, how did you get here?"

"It's too long a story to tell now," replied Bob, "let's try to get out of this crowd."

Although many tried to detain them, the two boys managed to slip away just as a fire engine, with a great ringing of bells, dashed on to the scene.