“Look out!” called a policeman guarding the fire lines. “More danger overhead!”
Almost as he spoke, a big piece of masonry toppled down, and landed in the street not two feet from where Larry was standing, peering forward to see how the firemen fared. If it had struck him he would have been killed.
“Easy there, men!” called an assistant chief. “Go slow!”
“We don’t care for the danger! We’re going to get the boys out!” cried several of the unfortunate men’s comrades.
“All right, go ahead, I guess most of the wall’s down now,” spoke the assistant chief. “Here, you, young man!” he called to Larry. “What you doing here? Don’t you know you nearly got killed then?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Larry, trying to speak calmly. “But I’m a reporter, and I have to stay here.”
“Oh, you’re a reporter, eh?” asked the fireman, as he started in to help his men. “Well, I suppose you think you’re like a cat, and have nine lives, but you’d better be careful! Now get back a bit, while we see if any of these poor fellows are alive.”
Larry got some distance away, though not so far but that he could see what was going on. The crowd on this side had increased in size as the word went around that several firemen were buried in the ruins.
The rescuers worked madly, tearing at the hot bricks with picks and shovels. With crowbars they pried apart big masses of masonry. The lurid flames lighted up the scene with dancing tongues of fire, and the cries of the wounded mingled with the crackle of the blaze, the toots of the engines, and the hoarse yells of the men.
With loudly clanging bells several ambulances now drew up opposite where the imprisoned men were. They had been telephoned for as soon as it was known that an accident had occurred. After several minutes’ work one of the firemen was taken out. The white-suited doctor hurried to his side, and bent over the man. He listened to his heart.