Outside the building he could hear Patsy shouting to him, while the oaths of the prisoners, as they commanded Patsy to get the boat farther away from the destroyed warehouse, told plainly enough that his second assistant had special troubles of his own.
“Patsy!” cried Nick, at the top of his voice. “Stay where you are! I’ll bring Chick!”
He did not know whether his voice had carried to Patsy or not. Indeed, he had no time to think about it, for suddenly, with a vicious roar, a blue-and-yellow tongue of flame shot up from the middle of the great heaps of timbers about him, and through the caved-in roof overhead.
The warehouse was on fire!
CHAPTER XII.
ROUNDED UP.
“Chick!” shouted Nick Carter, in agony. “Where are you?”
Again there was no answer. Nick Carter would have been surprised if there had been. Well he knew that if Chick was to be rescued, it must be without any help from the imperiled one himself.
Fragments of blazing timbers were beginning to fall, and Nick saw that if certain joists already on fire should burn through, down would come the tons of flooring and roof upon his head. Nothing could save him.
If he meant to get Chick out of this, he must do it quickly.
“There he is—on the other side of that heap of burning wood,” he muttered. “Merciful heavens! Some of it is resting on him. He may be slowly roasting to death! I must get to him!”