"Come on, now," ordered Darrin, who had snatched up the coil of rope and was darting over the roof. "Dick's waiting for us."
Prescott, still looking below, heard the swish of ropes on the roof as Dave uncoiled and threw the lengths out.
"Good!" yelled Dick, looking back. "Tom, you take a turn or two of the rope around that chimney, for anchor. Dave, you stand here at the roof edge to pay out the rope. Greg, you and Dan get in behind Dave to help on the hoist. See, Dave! That third window from the end—- there's where the rope wants to go."
"You going down the rope?" queried Darrin dryly.
"Yes."
"Wait, then, and I'll tie some knots in it."
"No time for that," vetoed Dick sharply.
"I'll have to take my chances. Miss Dodge may be smothering, or burning. Pay it out—-fast!"
Dick watched until he saw that the rope had gone low enough, and that it hung before the right window.
"Now, brace yourselves, fellows!" he called, between his hands, for the roar of the flames and the crackling of timbers made some sort of trumpet necessary, even at short range.