to then few in the crowd had been heard to express any sorrow because
it was Philip Adkins' house that was afire. This was owing to his
unpopularity in Chester, where he never gave to any charitable object,
or for that matter even treated folks decently in his bitterness
toward all mankind because his poor boy was so deformed, and stricken
by a cruel Fate.

The football boys, however, felt none of those fears. They knew Jack
Winters' ways, and that he always did what he attempted, if it lay
within the range of human possibilities. Although he had gone from
their sight they continued to stand there in a bunch, ready to catch
the child if Jack dropped him from the window.

One there was who did not seem content to just stand and wait. Joel
Jackman was built upon too nervous lines for that; and just as soon as
he had seen the last of Jack through the broken window he started up
after his leader. Some of the other fellows called to him to come
back, but Joel knew what he was about, and gave no heed to their
cries.

Jack might need help, he argued with himself, and in that case his arm
would come in handy. There was surely enough of them below to do all
that was necessary, so that his absence would not count for much. And
after all perhaps Joel would prove to be right in his surmise.

Meanwhile Jack had entered the room.

He found it full of pungent smoke that filled his eyes, and made them
smart in a way that was almost unbearable. Of course under such
conditions he could not distinguish a single thing, and would have to