“Great Jehosophat!” cried Tom. “So I have!”
He yanked off the garment and tossed it into a corner. Then, clad only in his pajamas, he started to carry the old armchair to the window. It was almost too much for him, and Sid came to his aid.
“Let that go, and get the sofa out first!” cried Phil. “The chair can fall on that. Say, listen to the row!”
Out in the corridor could be heard confused shouts, and the sound of students running to and fro. Every now and then some one would cry “Fire!” and the rush would be renewed.
“The whole place must be going!” cried Sid. “Hurry up, Tom, shove it out! Maybe we can save some other things.”
“Better save ourselves first!” exclaimed Phil. “The stairs and halls are all ablaze!” He came back from a look into the corridor choking and gasping. “We’ve got to jump for it! Shove that chair out, then the sofa, and pile the bedding on top. That will make a place to land on.”
“Here she goes!” shouted Tom, and he and Sid shoved their precious old chair from the window. It fell with a great crash to the ground, two stories below.
“Broken to bits!” said Tom with a groan. “Now for the sofa. There’ll be nothing left of it.”
They had raised it to the window sill, after much effort, and were balancing it there while recovering their breaths. Their room was filled with the heavy fumes of smoke, and the noise in the corridor was increasing.
“Let her go!” cried Phil. “Lively, now, if we want to get out alive!”