“We’ve just escaped,” said Mr. Starleigh. “Help us to get down-stairs.”
“He can’t walk,” said Bob. “If you will get on one side of him I will get on the other.”
The fireman willingly complied, and it was not long before they reached the sidewalk, where a denser crowd than ever was now congregated.
Mr. Starleigh was assisted to a near-by drug-store, and a doctor at once gave his injured ankle proper attention.
“I wish I had saved my lenses,” he sighed. “The rest of the stuff in the place was not of so much account.”
“Here are the lenses,” returned Bob, producing them.
“What! Did you really get them?”
“Yes. I trust they are not scratched,” went on the youth, with considerable concern.
“They do not appear to be. Bob, I shall not forget you for this work, nor for saving my life, also.”
“Pooh! I didn’t save your life,” replied Bob, and he returned to the fire.