“Give me a boost up, somebody!”
Half a dozen willing hands raised Matt’s form to one of the small side windows, and an instant later the boy’s form disappeared within the smoke-laden building.
“He can’t stand it in there!”
“He’ll be smothered to death!”
Once inside, Matt found it advisable to crouch low down to the floor, for the smoke did, indeed, almost smother him. He could see but little, and 62 had to feel his way out of a stall, and across the floor to where the doors he wished to open were located.
“I’m afraid our nag will be a goner!” he thought dismally. “A horse never can stand anything in the shape of a fire.”
At last the doors were reached. Fortunately, he found the bolts at once, and lost not a second in drawing them from their sockets. Then he gave the doors a kick outward, and willing hands flung them far back against the side of the building. Then came a rush of men and boys, all eager to save something. For the moment it looked as if Matt would be carried from his feet.
“Here, don’t knock me down!” he cried. “Remember, I opened the doors for you.”
“So he did!” returned a burly cab driver. “Give the lad a show!”
And then Matt was given room. He quickly found his way through the smoke and heat to where the wagon stood, ready for the start on the road. The horse was but a few feet away snorting in alarm.