Jack realized, as well, that there could be no delay in the issue. He must act at once, if he were to act at all. A minute later would be forever too late. His brain was reeling. His agonized flesh could not longer withstand the strain. He felt his energies flow out of him like water.... What he would do must be done instantly—or not at all.
Jack drew a long breath, sprang up, swung the chair, and brought it crashing against the boards of the partition where the flames burned most furiously. The wall did not break, though it seemed to yield a little under the blow. But, before he could try another assault, dizziness sent him staggering away from the unbearable heat and smoke of that spot. He dropped to the floor, where he lay stretched at full length, panting in choking breaths. For a few seconds he was in the grip of despair. He felt himself impotent, doomed to shameful death in this furnace-hole.
Nevertheless, the spirit of the young man, albeit fainting, was not dead. It aroused presently. And it quickened the flesh. Once again Jack acted. His brain was dulled. He was hardly conscious of thought. The whole strength of his being was concentrated in his will to make a last, supreme effort. Again, after a deep breath, he leaped to his feet, seized the chair and hurled it against the center of the flaming mass with every atom of his strength.
In the interval since his first attempt, the fire that threatened him with death had, notwithstanding, been working in his behalf, weakening still more the boards, his enemies in this duel of endurance. The heavy chair burst through the blazing barrier and fell noisily in the other room.
Joy surged in the prisoner. Under the stimulus of it, he forgot pain and feebleness. He rushed at the flaming wall and kicked clear a larger opening. Then he plunged through the flames.
Jack fell headlong on the floor of the sheriff's office. By instinct, he remained prostrate, with his face against the floor, else he must have strangled. But instinct urged him onward. He crept toward the window, which, fortunately, was on the side of the room where he had fallen. His eyes were shut fast now, for the smoke had blinded him. But his groping hand, upraised, found the window-sash. Once more Jack held his scant breath as he got to his feet. He drove his elbows through the panes. The zero air enwrapped him. The touch of it was bliss. It brought blessed life to the seared lungs. Jack took one great breath of it. Then he put a foot to the window-ledge, drew himself up and went through, amid the noise of rending glass and wood. Without an instant of pause, or a single glance backward, he was off, plowing his way through the heaped-up snow, which bordered the clear space beyond the buildings. In another minute he was on the solid crust. Thus he ran on in a line parallel with the one street of the village, but behind the buildings that straggled there. He passed the last of these, and saw before him the white reaches of the valley, without sign of life anywhere, beckoning him on to freedom. His stride quickened and he went forward jubilantly.
WITHOUT AN INSTANT PAUSE, HE WAS OFF, PLOWING HIS WAY THROUGH THE SNOW.
A hail came to Jack's ears. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw, a little to the right of the trail, a ghostly silhouette, even as he had pictured it—the trapper, with his dogs, waiting patiently on the snow where the spruce shadows fell.