some one behind saying, "Boys in the next story, they say." Will turned
and sprang up stairs. Just ahead was the person who had recently spoken.
The proprietor of the commanding voice was now retreating, his ax over his
shoulder, stepping proudly out in the consciousness that he had done a
memorable thing. Up the stairs went Will and his companion, the smoke
thickening about them. Reaching the second floor and pushing open the door
of the adjoining room, they saw--was it a boy on the floor? He had
evidently striven to gain the door, but when he had almost reached it, had
succumbed to the suffocating smoke, falling with arms stretched out toward
the goal he desired to secure. And who was it running toward them, boy or
man, the smoke parting about him as he advanced, then closing up again? It
was a boy rushing for the door, trying to make his way through the smoke
which, light as it was, proved too heavy a burden for him, for down he
dropped, felling flat upon his face. It was the work of a moment
apparently to seize the boys and carry them out into the entry.

"Thank God for strong arms!" said Will Somers, lifting one boy and
starting off with him.

"Yes, thank Him for every thing good," answered his companion, shouldering
the other prize. They descended the stairs. How the smoke had increased!
They had been absent longer than they thought, and in that time the fire
was rapidly advancing toward them. They heard a loud noise without, a
shout rising above the crackle and roar of the flames. Then voices were
heard at the foot of the stairs: "Come this way! Quick! Hurry!" As Will
passed through the lower entry, he chanced to glance into the room whose
door had been left open by the knight of the ax. A draft had been created,
and Will could see that the flames were springing toward the outer air.

"This way! Hurry!" people were shouting, and through the almost blinding,