Again Gilbert glanced around the apartment. The smoke was so thick he could see but little, and it made the tears flow down his cheeks in a stream. At the opposite end of the prison the flames crackled fiercely, and they were swiftly coming closer. Whatever was to be done must be done quickly, or it would be too late.
His eyes rested on the iron end of a cot; and as quickly as possible he smashed the bed apart, and caught up one of the side pieces. Using this as a lever, he pried upon one of the bars of the window, and after great effort succeeded in bending it several inches.
“Now try to pull in your head, Polk,” he said, and helped the young man. Even yet it was a tight squeeze, but the deed was accomplished with no further harm to the young man than a badly scratched ear.
But just as Nuggy was freed there came a strong rush of wind and a cloud of smoke which enveloped both like a sheet. The fire was coming up the corridor, and had already reached the stairway by which Gilbert had ascended to the ward.
“Wha—what shall we do next?” groaned Nuggy. “We are lost! Oh, Heaven help us!” And, too weak to stand longer, he sank on his knees, and then went into a heap on the floor.
“Come, this won’t do!” cried Gilbert, and caught the young man by the arm. “We must get out—we simply must!” But Nuggy did not hear him, for he had fainted.
Leaving the young man on the floor, Gilbert ran toward the corridor. A glance told him that escape at the further end was cut off completely. He looked at the ward opposite, a door of which stood wide open. Beyond was a window opening upon a narrow court-yard, a spot the fire had not yet touched.
Gilbert ran to the window, to find a number of the bars gone. In the court-yard he saw several firemen.
“Get a ladder!” he called out. “A ladder, quick! There are two of us up here!”
His words were not understood by the natives, but they were understood by a German in the crowd; and he quickly translated them, and a rush was made for a bamboo ladder.