“Oh! where is my dear Mounseer?” cried Lucy, tearfully.
“Drat the man!” said Susan. “What in the world he’s doing I don’t know. He must have a bee in his bonnet. Here now—Martin—come back! Come back, I say!”
But Martin, unable to bear the suspense any longer, had broken away and dashed into the burning house to find his old friend.
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH
MARTIN’S ORDEAL
Martin was only partly conscious of what he passed through during the next minute, and not at all aware of the risks he ran.
The old timber house had ignited from the top; the roof had burnt through, and blazing fragments, falling on to the landings below, had set fire to the walls and the floors. Already the flames were eating away the stairs, and Martin, groping his way up through the smoke and by the aid of the banisters, was awakened to realities by a sudden sharp stinging pain as his hand touched a place that was on fire.
“Mounseer! Mounseer!” he called as he bounded up.
There was no answer.