Up through the tenement poured a volume of thick smoke. Thick, stifling vapor that rolled up through the dumbwaiter shaft, that penetrated to the rooms, and set the frightened tenants to coughing.
What a scramble there was then! What a hurrying and scurrying to leap from bed, to grasp whatever garments came nearest to hand, to wrap them about one, and then, if there were children, to grab them up, and run for the hall!
What a scene of terror succeeded what, but a few minutes before, had been a peaceful one! Frightened yells and screams mingled with the alarm of fire shouted by a loud voice. Children began to cry. Women laughed hysterically, and men called to one another to know where the blaze was, for no flames could be seen. Only there was that black and stifling smoke.
The man who had so stealthily crept up the stairs suddenly leaped into the kitchen of the Dexter home.
“Fire! Fire!” he exclaimed. “Hurry up out! The house is on fire!”
Mrs. Dexter screamed. Mary and Jimmy began to cry. Lucy slipped on a robe, and ran into her mother’s room. Larry leaped from his bed, and, pausing only to pull on his trousers, ran to where the others had gathered in the hall.
“Are you all out?” shouted the man, in the darkness. “Come on. I’ll carry the little boy. You take the little girl, lad. The other girl can help the old lady!”
Then grabbing up Jimmy, the man, whose hands were encased in gloves, half led, half pushed the little group on before him. Larry, dazed from sleep, grabbed up Mary, and, seeing that Lucy was leading her mother safely down, followed; the man bringing up the rear with Jimmy, who was hardly awake.
“Is the house on fire?” asked Larry.
“Sure! Can’t you smell the smoke?” asked the man.