The flames were mounting higher and higher above the ill-fated Landmark Building. It was a "land-mark" now, for miles around—a fearsome mark, indeed.
"I hope every one is out of the place," said Ned, as the airship approached nearer and the fierceness of the fire was more manifest.
"Bless my thermometer, you're right!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "I don't see how any one could live in that furnace."
Seen from above it appeared that the fire was engulfing the whole building, while, as a matter of fact, only the central portion was yet blazing. But it was only a question of time when the remainder would ignite.
And it was to this fact—that the fire was rushing up the stairway and elevator shafts as up a chimney—that Mary and her uncle, as well as Field and Melling, owed their temporary safety.
Had Tom known that the girl he loved was in such direful danger, it is doubtful if his hand would have been as steady as it was on throttle and steering wheel. But not a muscle or nerve quivered. To Tom it was but carrying out a prearranged task. He was going to extinguish a great blaze, or attempt to do so, by means of his aerial fire-fighting apparatus. And his previous tests had given him confidence in his device. His one regret was that the fire department of the city that was contemplating the purchase of certain rights in his invention could not witness what he was about to do.
"But they'll hear of it," declared Ned, when Tom voiced this idea to his chum.
Nearer and nearer to the up-spouting column of flames the airship winged her way. Tense and alert, Tom sat at the wheel guiding his craft with her load of fire-defying chemicals. Behind him were Ned, Mr. Damon and Mr. Baxter, ready to drop the grenades at the word.
"Getting close, Tom!" called Ned, as they could all feel the heat of the conflagration in the Landmark Building, which now seemed doomed.
"You'll not dare cross it too low down, will you?"