"Thanks for the comparison," retorted Jo. "Does anybody smell smoke?"
"Yes! And I see it, too!" Nan pointed toward a cloud of smoke that curled lazily skyward. "It looks as though it came from my street! Girls, it can't be our house!"
The girls turned the corner of the street and found that their worst fears were justified. Smoke was rolling in gray clouds from the windows of the Harrison house!
"It seems to be downstairs!" gasped Nan.
The girls ran swiftly toward the house, but as they reached it a sound came to them that chilled their blood. They stared at each other, white-faced, desperate. For that sound had been a cry for help!
Nan pointed to an upper window.
"Aunt Emma's room!" she cried. "The fire has reached her room! She will die like a rat in a trap! Girls, we've got to get her out! We've got to!"
Again from the room above came that fearful, heartbreaking cry.
"Help! Oh, help!"