Again and again did he cast his whole weight forward, regardless of the shock he sustained through the impact. He could feel that with each successive smash the fastenings of the door seemed to weaken. This encouraged the boy to even greater exertions, and there was Leslie, too, adding his weight to the assault.
After half a dozen blows of this character, the door could hold out no longer, and Dick found himself staggering into the room. It was filled with smoke, though as yet the flames had not intruded.
Dick started to grope his way over to the nearest window, which, upon reaching, he threw wide open. This created a draught of air, and started the stagnant smoke to moving outwardly.
“Here they are, Dick!” he heard Leslie shouting, and it gave him a thrill just to know that he had at least made no mistake in the apartment.
The widow must have fallen asleep in her chair, for she was fully clothed, and had undoubtedly been unconsciously inhaling the suffocating smoke as she slept. Billy was in his little bed close by, his curly head almost covered by the spread, which fact Dick believed had been the main cause for his not succumbing before now.
When Dick shook him the boy aroused himself. He was drowsy, and hardly seemed to know where he was, or who had awakened him.
Dick snatched the child up in his arms, wrapping a blanket around him. Leslie, in the meantime, was shaking Tilly, with some hope of arousing her to a sense of her peril, for neither of the boys could readily carry her from the building.
He was meeting with some measure of success, too, for already Tilly had moved, and possibly the shock of finding herself surrounded by smoke would start her into fresh activity.
“Can you get her on her feet?” shouted Dick in his chum’s ear.
“I’ll do my best,” replied the other, bravely.