Even to boys daily grilled on the football gridiron it was no mere matter of sport to dart up five flights of stairs at fast speed.
Dick Prescott was panting as he reached the roof and threw open the skylight door.
But he got out on the roof, hurrying across it, doing his best, at the same time, to gulp in chestfuls of fresh air.
Then he came to the edge of the roof next to the burning building.
The roof of that other building was about fifteen feet below the
Roof on which Dick Prescott stood.
After an instant of swift calculation young Prescott jumped.
He landed, below, on the balls of his feet, though the next instant the momentum of the fall carried him forward onto his hands.
In another twinkling Prescott was up, running toward the front edge of the building.
He stopped at the skylight door, but discovered that the flames and smoke below shut off hope there. So he continued to the front of the roof.
Here Dick glanced back, for a second, to make sure that Dave had followed safely.