Then, calm as a May morning, she wrapped her feet about the rope and began the descent, hand over hand, right, left, right, left. It was painfully slow, but there was no other way. To slip was to come to a terrible death.
CHAPTER V
A SHOT FROM AMBUSH
The strain on Mazie’s arms as she let herself down the rope which hung from the window of the burning building seemed greater than she could bear; but with the grim determination of near despair she worked her way down, hand over hand, hand over hand.
The palms of her hands burned like fire. In spite of her greatest efforts her hands slipped a little, an inch here, an inch there, and the effect of these slips was like the grasping of a red hot iron.
One window she passed in safety, another and another. As she reached the sill of the fourth her feet touched it. With a dizzy faintness she steadied herself there and looked down.
The sight that met her eyes was appalling. The window directly under her belched forth a sudden burst of red flame. Then, as the wind shifted, the flames were sucked in again. Was there hope in that? No. The rope had caught fire!
Clinging desperately to her place, she hoped for a clearer moment of consciousness—and was granted it.
Calmly she looked down. What was to be done? She dared not pass that window. A sudden burst of flame would destroy her. Besides, she could not. The rope was all but burned in two.
For a time, because of the smoke, she could not see below. Then of a sudden it cleared and she saw firemen ranged around a white circle directly under her.
“A net,” she breathed.