"Well, hold on a minute, I've got a key in my pocket."
Bob turned and saw that Reed had lowered the revolver a little as he searched his pocket for the key. It was the chance he wanted. Like a flash he leaped, and before the startled man could raise his arm, his wrist was seized and given a powerful twist, which sent the revolver spinning to the other side of the room. Reed, maddened to the point of frenzy, struggled with all his strength, and he was no mean antagonist, but Bob knew that he was fighting for his liberty, if not for his life, and fought as he had never fought before. Round the room they struggled, knocking over the chairs as they fought. Once the man got the boy down on his back, and with his hand on his throat, began to choke him, but Bob managed to squirm over, and, getting to his knees, flung one arm round Reed's neck, and giving a powerful twist made him lose his hold. Both quickly rose to their feet and stood facing each other, panting for breath. Suddenly, catching sight of the revolver on the floor near his feet, Reed made a move toward it. But the movement gave Bob the chance he wanted, and, springing forward, he swung his right arm with all the strength he could muster. His fist landed squarely on the man's right eye, and he went down in a heap. He was not knocked out, but the blow gave Bob time to grab up the revolver, and by the time Reed was on his feet again, he took his turn at looking down the barrel.
"Now, my old friend, I guess I'll have to ask you to recognize that conclusion you spoke of a few moments ago. This thing don't look quite so good at that end, does it? Give my regards to your friend below, if you can get enough life in him to accept them."
So saying, he backed out of the room into the hall, still pointing the revolver at the man, who stood looking daggers at him, but not daring to move, and this time reached the street without mishap.
"Whew!" he thought, as he slipped the revolver into his pocket, "that was some exciting time while it lasted. Well, I'm free at last and I'll take mighty good care that they don't get me again. Wonder which way I'd better go?"
Although well acquainted with a good part of Boston, as he looked about him he had no idea in what part of the city he was, except that it was one of the poorer districts.
Coming to the harbor front, he turned toward the south, judging that the ferry was in that direction. He had gone but a few squares, when he heard the cry of fire, and glancing down a side street which led to the water's edge, he saw a number of men and boys running toward an old house near the water and about a square from where he was standing.
"Guess I'll see what's doing," he thought as he turned and started to run down the street.
Coming opposite the house, which stood somewhat apart by itself, he saw that it was a three-story frame structure, and the flames were already visible through the windows of the first floor, while smoke was pouring from those of the first and second stories.
"It won't last ten minutes," said a man standing next to him, "the walls will fall in before the fire engine gets here."