At last the landing was gained, and our hero leaped from the boat and ran at top speed for the boarding house.
By this time the alarm had been given through the village, and the inhabitants were hurrying to the scene of the conflagration from all directions.
There was but one fire engine in the place, and this was a very primitive affair, so, with such a strong wind blowing, it was speedily seen that Mrs. Barlow's resort was doomed.
When Robert came up he ran plump into the landlady, who was rushing out of the house with a lamp in one hand and a canary bird cage in the other.
"Mrs. Barlow, is Mrs. Vernon safe?" he asked breathlessly.
"Mrs. Vernon?" repeated Mrs. Barlow, in a semi-dazed fashion. "Sure, Mr. Frost, I don't know where she is."
Robert waited to hear no more, but ran into the boarding house and began to mount the stairs, three steps at a time.
"Mrs. Vernon!" he called out. "Mrs. Vernon, where are you?"
Getting no reply, he made his way through the upper hallway, which was rapidly filling with smoke. The fire was in the rear of the dwelling and so far the wind had blown it away, but now the wind was shifting and the fire was leaping from cellar to garret.
Robert, as we know, was naturally brave, and now the thought that the lady who had been so kind to him might be in peril of her life, lent him additional courage.