“I guess so,” replied Bobby, as he finished lacing his shoes. “I banged on all the doors, and then too the ringing of the bell would wake the dead. I passed most of them already out in the hall. Oh, but there’s Lee!” he fairly shouted, jumping to his feet. “His room is off from the rest and it’s just across from where the fire is! We’ve got to get him out.”
He threw open the door and started down the hall. But just then flames burst through the door of the burning room and swept completely across the hall, barring the passage.
Like a flash, Bobby was back in the room. He seized a towel and thrust it into the pitcher of water that stood on the washstand. Then he wound the dripping folds about his head.
“Take the pitcher and dash the rest of the water over me!” he shouted to Fred. “Quick!”
Fred did so and Bobby darted out of the room.
Down the hall he went and made a flying leap through the flames holding his breath as he did so, in order that he might not inhale the fire. He reached Lee’s door and rushed in.
The room was full of smoke, and Lee, half stupefied by it and hardly knowing what he was doing was staggering about. Bobby grabbed him by the arm and shook him.
“Brace up, Lee!” he cried.
With the other hand he picked up a heavy bathrobe and threw it over Lee’s head and shoulders. Then he started to lead him to the door, but Lee had not been on his feet for so long that his knees gave way under him.
At that instant, Fred, who had also drenched himself from head to foot, appeared at his side, and Bobby heaved a sigh of relief.