Even as he abandoned all hope, Flash felt himself firmly grasped by the legs. Slowly but steadily he was hauled back through the window.
The strain upon the young photographer’s arms was terrific, yet he clung desperately to the old man. Both were drawn through the opening to safety. Spent by the ordeal, they slumped on the floor.
Flash saw then, that his rescuer was the same fireman who previously had been in the building.
“Thanks,” he gasped gratefully. “I thought it was curtains for sure.”
“Would have been in another minute,” grunted the fireman. “When that ladder crashed to the street I knew something was wrong up here. Couldn’t see on account of the smoke.”
The old man had passed out completely. Stooping, the fireman gathered him up and slung the inert body over his back.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Flash heard the words as if from a long distance. He tried to follow the fireman but his feet refused to move. Every muscle seemed paralyzed. He weaved sideways, dizzy from the heat.
Then quietly, he crumpled.