Now the black smoke was rising and the fire was crackling like a joyous fiend. Still, from that fearful wreck came the cries of the poor wretches who were held fast in that trap of death.
“Walter!” cried Inza, realizing at last what had happened. “Where is he?”
“I do not know,” confessed Frank.
“My father?”
Merry shook his head.
“He is in there!” she screamed, sitting upright. “They are both there! Oh, my brother!”
A man with his clothing torn, and one arm hanging helpless at his side, staggered toward him.
“Inza!” he hoarsely shouted, joy in his tone. “I could not find you! I thought you still in there!”
It was Walter Burrage, badly bruised and having a broken arm, but alive and not dangerously hurt. He fell on his knees and clasped his sister’s hand.
“Take her!” said Frank Merriwell hoarsely—“take her, quick!”