"Hold on," ordered Ralph suddenly, but Slavin, catching sight of men and ladders in the vicinity of the factory, dashed on for the main center of excitement and activity.
Ralph had halted. He stood within about a hundred feet of the old house between Mrs. Davis' former home and the factory.
It was across this stretch, belonging to an old invalid widow, that Farrington had forced his right of way. The roof of the house was ablaze, So was one side of the building. Ralph had been checked by a wailing cry.
"Some one shut in there," he decided. "Even if it is only an animal, I must find out, and try to rescue it."
Ralph ran through the open rear doorway. A hall extended the length of the house. The outside blaze shone brightly into a side room, although it was filled with smoke pouring through a sash half burned away.
An old woman in a wheel chair blocked the doorway of the front room. Apparently this was her only means of getting about. She had tried to escape, the chair, had got wedged in the doorway, and she was moaning and crying for help.
"Is that you, David?" she gasped wildly, as her smoke-blurred eyes made out Ralph.
"No, but I am here to help you," answered Ralph in a cheery, encouraging voice. "Don't worry, ma'am."
Ralph soon extricated the chair. As he ran it and its occupant out into the open air, the front windows blew in from the intense heat, and the flames swept through the house.
Ralph ran the chair to a high point of safety.