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Out of the hallway came the policeman, white-faced and tottering weakly.
"I---I couldn't get up much above the second floor," he gasped, in a voice out of which the strength was gone. "I---I guess the---heat and smoke got me! But---some one---must try!"
Where was that fire department?
d.i.c.k, staring over the crowd, found that all of his chums had arrived.
"Come on, fellows!" he yelled. "We've got to do something. Follow me!"
Prescott, after one swift glance at the buildings, made a dash for the door of the one just to the right of the blazing pile.
Into the stairway entrance he dashed, followed by Dave Darrin, by Tom Reade, Greg Holmes, Dan Dalzell and Harry Hazelton.
"Hurrah!" yelled some one, in infectious enthusiasm. "d.i.c.k & Co. to the rescue!"
CHAPTER XX
IN THE LINE OF DARING
That became instantly the cry:
"d.i.c.k & Co. to the rescue!"
Yet none of the s.e.xtette heard it.
They were all inside, at the first step of their projected deed of bravery.
"All of you but Dave run through the offices!" yelled d.i.c.k. "Some of the tenants must have fire-rope coils. Grab the first rope you can find and bring it to me on the roof. Hustle! Dave, you follow me!"
Even to boys daily grilled on the football gridiron it was no mere matter of sport to dart up five flights of stairs at fast speed.
d.i.c.k Prescott was panting as he reached the roof and threw open the skylight door.
But he got out on the roof, hurrying across it, doing his best, at the same time, to gulp in chestfuls of fresh air.
Then he came to the edge of the roof next to the burning building.
The roof of that other building was about fifteen feet below the Roof on which d.i.c.k Prescott stood.
After an instant of swift calculation young Prescott jumped.
He landed, below, on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, though the next instant the momentum of the fall carried him forward onto his hands.
In another twinkling Prescott was up, running toward the front edge of the building.
He stopped at the skylight door, but discovered that the flames and smoke below shut off hope there. So he continued to the front of the roof.
Here d.i.c.k glanced back, for a second, to make sure that Dave had followed safely.
Darrin was on his feet, and waved his hand rea.s.suringly.
Then d.i.c.k Prescott leaned out, peering down at the front of the burning building.
"There's Prescott!" shouted some of the most enthusiastic watchers.
"Hurrah. Old Gridley High School!"
But d.i.c.k paid no heed to the crowd. He was trying to locate the window at which Grace Dodge had appeared, and was trying to contrive how he would use a rope when one came.
In the meantime Darrin, having jumped to the lower roof, remained where he had dropped, awaiting the arrival of the other fellows with a rope.
After a few moments they came. Reade had a coil of inch rope, which he waved enthusiastically.
"Wait until we get the rope uncoiled," called Greg. "Then we'll lower some of us down to join you"
"Lower---nothing! Jump!" yelled Dave, in a stentorian quarter-deck voice.
Greg obeyed, instanter. Tom flung the coil of rope below, then followed it. Hazelton and Dalzell, an instant later, were with their comrades.
"Come on, now," ordered Darrin, who had s.n.a.t.c.hed up the coil of rope and was darting over the roof. "d.i.c.k's waiting for us."
Prescott, still looking below, heard the swish of ropes on the roof as Dave uncoiled and threw the lengths out.
"Good!" yelled d.i.c.k, looking back. "Tom, you take a turn or two of the rope around that chimney, for anchor. Dave, you stand here at the roof edge to pay out the rope. Greg, you and Dan get in behind Dave to help on the hoist. See, Dave! That third window from the end--- there's where the rope wants to go."
"You going down the rope?" queried Darrin dryly.
"Yes."
"Wait, then, and I'll tie some knots in it."
"No time for that," vetoed d.i.c.k sharply.
"I'll have to take my chances. Miss Dodge may be smothering, or burning. Pay it out---fast!"
d.i.c.k watched until he saw that the rope had gone low enough, and that it hung before the right window.
"Now, brace yourselves, fellows!" he called, between his hands, for the roar of the flames and the crackling of timbers made some sort of trumpet necessary, even at short range.
On his knees, his back to the street, at the edge of the roof, d.i.c.k Prescott seized the rope.
Then, with a fervent inward prayer, he started over the edge, and hung in the air, eighty feet from the ground.
Down below, the ever-increasing crowd let out a cyclonic, roaring cheer. It was a foolish thing to do, for it might have rattled the young football player. But Prescott paid no attention to the racket, and kept on lowering himself, coolly.