The old man, his face ghastly in the weird light, climbed through the window to the stone ledge. There he cowered, his back to the brick wall, afraid to trust himself to the ladder.
“Come on! Hurry!” Flash urged impatiently. “It’s your only chance! The building can’t last much longer.”
The old fellow stared at him in a stupid, bewildered way. Even the searing fire in the room behind, could not drive him to attempt it. Flash realized that he was only wasting precious time.
Hesitating only an instant, the photographer swung his legs through the window. Testing the ladder to make certain it was firmly in place, he crawled nimbly toward the man on the opposite ledge. Halfway across he glanced down. Through the rolling clouds of smoke, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the street five stories below.
For a moment his courage nearly failed him. He clung tightly to the ladder, fighting the wave of dizziness which swept over him. Then, gaining control of himself, he crawled the remaining distance, and reached out a hand to the terrified man.
“I’m afraid,” the old fellow whimpered piteously. “I can’t do it. The ladder might slip. I can’t.”
“Do you want to burn?” Flash demanded. “Come on, before it’s too late!”
He seized the old man by the coat and pulled him out on the ladder. For a fearful second he thought that they both might lose their balance and plunge to the street. But once on the ladder, the old fellow maintained a measure of self-control. Although he whimpered with fear, he did not clutch Flash or struggle against the grasp of his arm.
Inch by inch the young photographer backed toward his own window and safety. He kept hold of the old man’s coat, steadying him and lending him confidence.
“Don’t look down,” Flash commanded. “Keep your eyes on the window.”