IN THE BURNING HOUSE
Something must have happened to delay the coming of the firemen, for as a rule they were prompt to reach the scene. Possibly their engine had broken down again, as had happened once before; which accident caused such a talk that public sentiment was aroused, with the result that a new, modern auto-engine was ordered, and a paid department arranged for.
"Look here, boys, we ought to do something about this!" exclaimed Jack
Winters, thrilled with what he had heard the sobbing old man cry out.
Philip Adkins turned toward him frantically. He certainly did not hate boys just at that moment in his life, when it seemed that perhaps he would have to depend on them for the help he was demanding.
"Oh! don't lose any time, I beg of you!" he cried. "I tried to rush indoors myself, but some men caught hold of me, and said I'd surely smother in the smoke. If I thought my poor Carl was lost, nothing could keep me from going in. Save my boy for me, and any favor you ask will be granted; but hurry! hurry, or it will be too late!"
Jack saw that the old man was wild with fear. He reached out and took hold of him by the arm.
"Get a grip on yourself, Mr. Adkins," he said, in that steady voice of his that generally acted so soothingly on those whom Jack addressed. "We'll try to get him out for you. But first tell me where his room is?"
"Upstairs at the first turn; but the hallway is full of smoke by now, and oh! I even fear the fire has reached there!" cried the old man, wringing his hands pitifully as he spoke.
"Try to point out the window of his room to me!" continued Jack, steadily.
Eagerly Mr. Adkins consented to do so, even dragging the boy around with him as he thrust up a hand and with trembling finger pointed upward.