“I mean is it bad?” cried Larry. “Because if it isn’t I must go back for some of our clothes and things.”
“Don’t stop for that now,” the man exclaimed. “You’ll be all burned up! Save your lives first!”
In all the excitement of it Larry could not help wondering where he had heard that voice before. But there was little time to think of this.
Down the stairs they ran, being joined by other tenants from every floor, all of whom were fleeing in scant attire. The cries of “fire” were being called now by scores of voices.
In about a minute, though it seemed five times as long as that, Larry, his mother, and all the others had emerged on the street. They found themselves in the midst of a motley throng, but in the excitement no one seemed to mind the strangeness of the attire.
One man was carrying two pillows, while his wife had a bird cage. Another man was trying to put his trousers on for a coat, and a third was endeavoring to drag a brass bed down the stairs.
Then came a shrill tooting whistle followed by the gallop of horses.
“The engines are coming!” cried Larry. “Get back out of the way, mother. Here, Jimmy, you and Mary stay close to me. We’ll go into one of these other houses. The fire doesn’t seem to be bad. Then I must go back after that box of papers.”
The man with the gloves, who had roused the Dexter family, had placed Jimmy down on the sidewalk.
“I’m going back to rescue some more!” he cried, as he sped up the smoke-filled hallway. He seemed anxious to save human lives even at the risk of his own.