The danger of the attempt lay in this—that, though the lower and upper parts of the escape were comparatively free from smoke, the middle was shrouded with a dense mass, through which now and then a lurid red flame burst. But our hero thought only of the woman. In a second or two he had disappeared in the smoke.
Two of the firemen stood below holding a nozzle of the hose and directing it on a particular spot. They did not dare to move from their post, but they could see by a glance upwards what was going on.
“Fred,” said one to the other in a low voice, “He’ll save her, or there’ll be a man less in the brigade to-night. He never does anything by halves. Whatever he undertakes he does well. Depend on’t, that Harry Thorogood will save that woman if she can be saved at all.”
As he spoke Harry was seen emerging above the smoke, but when he reached the top of the highest ladder he was fully six feet below the spot where the woman knelt.
“Come! girl, come!” he shouted, and held out his arms.
The terrified creature hesitated. She was afraid. She doubted the strength of the escape—the power of the man.
“Come! come!” again he shouted.
She obeyed, but came against the fireman with such force that the round of the ladder on which he stood gave way, and both were seen to go crashing downwards, while something like a mighty groan or cry rose from the multitude below. It was changed, however, into a wild cheer when Harry was seen to have caught the head of the escape, and arrested his fall, with one powerful hand, while, with the other, he still grasped the woman.
“God favours them,” said a voice in the crowd, as a gust of wind for a few seconds drove smoke and flames aside.
Our bold fireman seized the opportunity, got the woman into the shoot, or canvas bag under the lowest ladder, and slid with her in safety to the ground.