To see anything between the confining walls was now impossible. The smoke was thick, and the glare that shot through it rendered it opaque and blinding.
Matt, however, knew every foot of the building's interior as he knew his two hands. Holding the coat closely around his head to protect his face, he hurried through the blistering fog and finally stumbled against the Sprite.
Laying hold of the boat, he pushed with all his strength. In spite of his fiercest efforts, she stuck and hung to the rollers. It was not a time to hunt for what was wrong, but to force the Sprite into the well at any cost.
While Matt tugged and strained, the end of the building fell outward with a crash, and a flurry of sparks and firebrands leaping skyward. This released a section of the roof, which dropped inward.
One blazing beam landed on Matt's right arm, pinning it against the rubstreak. A sickening pain rushed through his whole body, and when he had hurled the timber away with his left hand, the injured arm dropped numb and helpless at his side.
"Matt! Motol Matt!"
The shrill, frightened cry came from Ping. He had followed through the window and had been feeling his way about the interior of the boathouse. The crash of the wall and the roof had frightened him, and he would have bolted had not the knowledge that Matt was somewhere in that blazing inferno chained him to the place.
"Here, Ping!" cried Matt, hoarsely. "Lay hold of the boat and help me get her into the water. Lively, now—for your life!"
Their united strength, even through Matt had only his left hand, was sufficient. The Sprite started slowly over the rollers, reached the head of the incline, and her own impetus carried her downward. Matt and Ping sprang into her blindly as she leaped away.
Across the well ran the Sprite, her nose striking the water door and causing her to recoil backward until her stern brushed the incline.