The man moved on up the stairs until he passed by the spot where Max and Dale were in ambush. He was a fireman, and his object seemed to be to find out at close quarters the extent and power of the fire. As the man passed him, Max had a sudden idea.
"We must attack him after all, Dale," he whispered. "Come—help me so that no alarm is raised. I will tell you why in a moment."
Sheltered by the fitful light and occasional gusts of rolling smoke, it was an easy matter to creep upon the fireman unawares and to bring him to the ground stunned and helpless. That accomplished, Max immediately proceeded to remove the man's tunic and helmet. Dale then understood—it was to be the ruse of the sham sentry outside the power-house over again.
"Now put them on, Dale," cried Max rapidly. "You can then go boldly down and out to the cordon of soldiers. They will let you through without question."
"Not I," replied Dale sturdily. "I'm not going to leave you like that. What will become of you, I should like to know?"
"I shall be all right. When the next fireman comes along I shall do the same. Now, go ahead, and don't delay."
"No," replied Dale decidedly. "I'll not do it, Max. We will wait for the next fireman together if you will not don the suit."
"Dale—you will do as you are told!" cried Max, roused to sudden anger by his friend's unexpected obstinacy. "I am Stroke of this crew—not you."
"I know you are, but you are asking too much when you want me to leave the boat. Besides, I should never get through. I can't muster up nearly enough German. You put them on, old man—it's no use staying here when you might escape."
"You shall suffer for this, Dale, upon my word you shall," cried Max angrily, as he savagely thrust himself into the tunic, buckled on the belt and axe, and donned the great helmet. "But if you think I am going without you you are badly mistaken. Come downstairs, near the entrance, and I will tell you what I propose."