“Can you get down the ladder if I help you?” asked Jerry, entering the room.
“Sure! I’m not as helpless as all that, even if I have a game leg. I’m spry yet! Where’s the ladder? Is the whole house afire?”
“No, only part of it. I think they’ll save most of it. Here’s the ladder,” and Jerry led the man to the window, for now a cloud of smoke blew into the room, making them both cough and obscuring their vision for a moment.
Mr. Cromley, to give him the name mentioned by the woman, proved that he was no weakling in spite of his age and lameness, and he went down the ladder almost as spryly as did Jerry.
“Oh, Uncle Bill, I’m so glad you’re saved!” cried one of the girls.
“But we aren’t on the ground yet!” sobbed her sister.
“You soon will be,” said Bob. “Come on, let’s move the ladder!” he cried.
“Any more up there?” asked Jerry, pointing to the window from which smoke was now pouring more thickly.
“No, we’re all out!” answered the woman.