“But they must have got him out, Dick,” he cried. “Wait, I’ll ask.” He darted toward the crowd in the yard. Dick followed. Mr. Coolidge, trembling with excitement and his recent exertions, stood mopping his forehead just inside the gate, and recounting for the fifth time the story of the fire’s origin. To him came Trevor.
“Taylor, sir?” he asked in tones that trembled despite that he told himself over and over that it was all right; that Taylor must surely have been rescued. “Roy Taylor, Mr. Coolidge? Did he—— Where was he taken, sir?”
“Taylor?” faltered the boarding-house keeper. “Why—I—I—— Who saw that Taylor boy?” he shouted, turning to the group about him. The chatter ceased, and a silence fell that chilled Trevor and Dick to the heart. None answered for a moment. At last:
“He got out, didn’t he, George?” shrieked a woman’s voice, shrill-toned and hysterical. “You know he got out, don’t you?”
But Coolidge only shook his head, his face growing ashen. “I—I don’t know! I asked the boys; they said every one was out; you were here, and Sarah, and——” A murmur of horror arose and grew. Dick, pale-faced and sick at heart, stared at the burning building. Suddenly in the street voices broke into exclamations of horror; there was a pushing here and there; Dick turned and heard a cry: “Where are the firemen? They can save him!” The next instant Carl Gray, white-faced and breathless, broke through the gate.
“There’s some one in that room back there! I saw a face at the window! I—it looked like Roy Taylor. Dick, is that you? What shall we do?” Carl seized him by the arms, staring miserably into his eyes, his hands trembling. For a moment Dick stared back at him. Then, throwing off his hands, he turned and without a word dashed toward the front door.
“Dick! Dick!” shrieked Trevor. “Come back, you fool!” He sped after his chum toward the house. “You can’t do it, Dick!” But Dick paid no heed; it is doubtful if he heard. Just before the porch stood the marshal with warning hand outstretched.
“Here, get back there! You can’t go in.” Dick tried to rush by, but the officer seized him and held him firmly. Trevor came up panting. Dick viewed the marshal with angry eyes.
“Let me go!” he said fiercely. “There’s a boy upstairs! He’ll be burned up, you fool!”
“A boy up there?” repeated the marshal doubtingly. “How do you know?” He eased his grip on Dick’s shoulder. Like a flash the latter shook off the hand, seized the astounded officer about the neck, and with a quick jerk sent him sprawling, face down, on the gravel path. “Tell them to put up ladders!” he shouted to Trevor, and with a bound was up the steps and had entered the doorway.