In another minute the areaway cleared again. While Flash still could not attract attention from the street, he was relieved to observe that his shouts for help had aroused the old man from a state of daze.
Staggering against the window sill, he motioned to the photographer. His lips moved, yet made no audible sound.
“Stay where you are!” shouted Flash. “Don’t go away! I’ll bring help!”
He was not certain the old man understood or would obey. But he dared waste no time by repeating his instructions. At any moment the fellow might be overcome, or the walls might fall.
Flash ran to the window where he had last seen the engine man. The hose lay there but the fireman was gone, evidently called to a more urgent post.
Starting for the street to summon help, Flash jerked open a door which he thought led into a main corridor. He found himself in a large closet filled with half empty buckets of paint. His gaze focused hopefully upon a tall step ladder used recently by painters.
Instantly Flash’s plan of action changed. With a life at stake time was precious. He doubted if he could bring help in time to save the man. But the ladder might turn the trick.
Seizing it, he hurried back to the window. He was relieved to see the old man standing where he last had been, silhouetted against a wall of flickering flame.
Flash pushed the ladder through the open window and across the narrow areaway to the opposite ledge. It barely bridged the gap.
“Get out on the ledge!” he shouted encouragingly. “Crawl over! I’ll steady the ladder!”