AND EXTORTS A PROMISE
The heat was awful. At the turn in the staircase Dick faltered and
leaned against the wall. His eyes were smarting with the acrid smoke;
he could scarcely breathe. Below him the door of the first-floor room
to the left was crackling savagely, the flames showing strangely red
through the eddying, rolling banks of smoke. Above him the stairs were
outlined with tiny tongues of fire or crimson patches of smoldering
woodwork, and beyond all was dark, foul with the fumes which had poured
up from the floor below. The stairs under his feet grew hot, and the
wall against which he leaned a hand was like a pave on which a summer
sun has beaten for hours.
His first thought had been to find a fireman and lead him to Taylor’s
room, which was on the back of the house, next to that in which the
fire was eating rapidly from below. But as yet he had seen no one. From
the first floor came dull blows of axes tearing into the timbers and
plaster. Should he go down again and summon help? But no, for scarce
a dozen steps intervened between him and the door of Taylor’s room.
If the ladders were being brought to the window his task would prove
simple, and might be finished ere assistance could be found. And even
as he hesitated there, striving to protect his aching eyes with one
arm, the matter was decided for him. With a sound like that of a mighty
wave breaking upon a pebble-strewn beach the fire broke through the
door below, crumpling it up like a sheet of metal foil and hurling it
upward in a blast of flaring cinders. Great tongues of flame burst
forth into the hallway as from the mouth of a giant furnace, and as
he looked the stairs behind him caught like tinder, and a breath,
scorching, suffocating, rushed up, seeming to take him bodily from his
feet and hurl him upon the smoking steps above.
With a gasp, he struggled to his feet and fought blindly up the
remaining stairs. His escape by the front of the house was cut off. And
then for the first time the possibility of finding Taylor’s door locked
from within faced him. If it should be so then his work was all in
vain, for he had no hope of being able to force the lock there in that
deadening swirl of smoke. From the head of the stairs to the door of
the room occupied by Taylor was but a half dozen feet, but Dick, with
his sleeve pressed against his mouth and his eyes fast closed, won it
only after what seemed ages, though from the moment he had entered the
house until his groping fingers closed on the knob but a scant minute
had passed. Half sick with the fear that he would find the door fast,
he hesitated a second; and then, with a stifled sob, turned the handle.
The door opened, a flood of cooler air met him, and in a moment he had
staggered inside and had closed the door again. At first he could see
nothing, for the room was in darkness save for the little light that
found its way through the window on the side of the house, and his
streaming eyes hurt him terribly. He took a dozen deep inhalations of
the air, which, while heavy with the fumes from the adjoining room, was
pure indeed compared with that scorching, smarting breath without. Then
he raised his voice.
“Taylor!” he called, and then louder, “Taylor! Taylor!”
There was no sound save the roar of the fire, the subdued noise of the
shouting crowd in the street, and now and then the crash of a falling
timber. He peered rapidly about him, striving in the strange ruddy
half-light that rose and fell over the room to descry the object of his
search. There was the bed and here, nearer at hand, the square table;
beyond that was the armchair. Perhaps---- He crossed the room quickly
toward it, stumbled over some obstruction, and fell to his knees on the
carpet. With a leaping heart he turned. There was a crash of falling
woodwork outside, and for an instant the room was bright with the light
of the flames. And in that instant he saw that he was bending over the
outstretched body of Roy Taylor, lying face down by the table, one arm
curved under the head, the other stretched forth with fingers that
clutched blindly in the darkness.
“Taylor!” Dick stooped and raised the apparently lifeless body into a
sitting posture. “Taylor!” he cried again, a dreadful fear clutching at
his heart. To his joy the form stirred and a groan reached his ears.
“Taylor! Brace up! You’re all right; do you hear me?”
A muttered word, low, indistinguishable, answered his appeal. He looked
toward the half-opened window. Surely the ladders would be there in a
moment! The smoke poured through under the door and wherever there was
a crevice, and momentarily increased in volume. Dick’s eyes and lungs
again gave the alarm. He shook Taylor with a sudden impulse of terror.
“Wake up, you fool!” he cried. “Get on your feet, or I’ll leave you
here! Do you hear? I’ll leave you alone if you don’t wake up!”
Suddenly an arm clutched itself about his shoulders and he knew that
Taylor heard him. Then, “Save me!” cried a voice weak and hoarse from
terror. “Get me out, oh, get me out! Don’t leave me!”
“Well, keep awake, do you hear? Can you walk?” There was no answer,
but Dick could feel the other’s body shaking with sobs. “Cut that
out!” he said savagely. “Brace up, man. Try to crawl to the window.
I’ll help you. Let go my arm, hang you! Let go, do you hear?” With
strong fingers he broke the detaining clutch and half lifted the other
to his feet. “Come on; get to the window; they’re bringing ladders!”
But Taylor, weakened by his long period in bed, unmanned by his awful
experience alone and well-nigh helpless in the burning house, was
incapable of standing. With a rush of pity, Dick let him slide toward
the floor, until by stooping and moving backward he could pull him
by the shoulders across the room. There was no time to consider the
injured knee. The room was filled with smoke; the heat was becoming
intolerable; in the hall just outside the door the flames were
crackling noisily, and to the left the plaster was breaking and falling
under the heat of the fire in the adjoining apartment. At the window
Dick propped Taylor against the wall and threw up the sash. Outside all
was light as day toward the front of the house. He could see figures
moving to and fro, could hear the cries of the fire-fighters, but no
ladders were in sight. Below the lawn was some twenty feet distant. He
could drop if he had to with some hope of escaping anything worse than
a bad jar. But Taylor?
Suddenly, as he leaned there with the cool night air driving by him, he
asked himself why he should have risked his life for Roy Taylor. Why
continue to risk it? Of all fellows in the school Taylor was the last
to deserve consideration, much less sacrifice, from him. He would wait
as long as he could without endangering his life, he told himself, and
then he’d drop from the window. And Taylor? Taylor was nothing to him;
he deserved no help from him; he had injured him all that he could.
Taylor must look to himself!
And yet as the thoughts rushed through his mind, he knew deep down
somewhere within him that they were all wrong, and knew that though
the ladders never came he would not leave the youth that sat shaking,
terrified beside him.
“But they must come!” he muttered. And leaning out he called at the top
of his voice for help. And then, around the corner of the house, from
the back, rushed two figures and stared upward at him. They waved their
hands excitedly.
“Keep up! The ladder’s coming! Can you hold out a minute?”
“Yes,” cried Dick.
Perhaps the first temptation, as feeble as it had proved, had paved the
way and weakened his conscience for that which now assailed him.
“At least make him pay for it!” whispered a voice. “It is worth
anything you can ask. Remember how he has injured you. Make your
bargain!”
He turned suddenly toward the lolling figure.
“Taylor, do you hear me?”
“Yes,” came the answer, weak and trembling.
“Do you know who I am?” There was no reply.
“I’m Hope!”
An instance of silence followed. Then, “Hope!” came a whisper, low,
incredulous.
“Yes. Listen. I can save you if--if I want to. Are you listening?”
Outside were many voices on the lawn under the casement.
“Yes, yes. Save me, Hope, save me!”
“I will on one condition,” whispered Dick hoarsely, hating himself,
despising himself from the bottom of his heart, yet hurrying on with
his words. “The bargain you made is done with; do you understand? I’ll
not give up the captaincy, Taylor, but you must promise to come back as
you said you would, and help all you know how. You must promise this,
and you must keep your promise!”
A ladder scraped against the boards outside, rattled once, and was
still. A voice called: “Hurry! He was there a moment ago; we saw him!
He can’t be far away! Look, the fire’s got through!” And as the words
reached him Dick heard the sound of falling mortar, of crackling
woodwork, and a great glare smote his eyes and an awful heat surged
toward him, making him stagger and gasp for breath. The wall dividing
the room from the front apartment was at last conquered, and the
flames leaped through the breach, writhing, eager for their prey. For
a moment terror seized Dick, and he could only stare in horror toward
the groping tongues that scorched his face and dried the breath in his
nostrils. Then, stooping quickly, he lifted Taylor’s body to the sill.
“Your promise!” he cried. “Quick!”
“Yes, yes! For God’s sake, Hope! Anything! Oh, it’s too late, too late!”
The ravening flames poured toward them, clutching at them with greedy
arms. A form darkened the window and a voice cried:
“Lift him out! Easy! That’s right; can you get down?”
“I--I think so,” muttered Dick, fighting down the desire to let himself
go and fall in a heap across the sill.
“Get onto the ladder, quick, and stay there! I’ll get you out of here
in a second. Here, Gus, take this chap; I guess he’s fainted.” The
fireman lowered himself down a few rungs, clutching Taylor’s limp form,
and Dick squirmed unsteadily onto the ladder. There he held tightly and
closed his eyes. The room was red with roaring, seething flames, but
to him it seemed all a vast darkness. From below--or was it not rather
from miles away?--came a long cheer; died away; increased again. And
then Dick felt arms about him.
“Keep your head now, sir, and put your arms around my neck.” Dick
obeyed as in a dream. He felt himself descending--down--down--down----
And then his head fell forward and he fainted.
When he opened his eyes he found himself lying on the grass across the
village street. The world was very strange, crimson and yellow, and the
trees threw great wavering shadows against the sky above. Some one was
holding something to his lips, and he drank because that seemed the
natural thing to do. Then a recollection of it all came back, and he
tried to sit up.
“Lie still,” said a voice. Dick looked. It was Malcolm Kirk. And beside
him was Trevor, looking absurdly like a red Indian in the queer light.
And there was Professor Longworth, and somebody he didn’t know, and,
oh, lots of other persons! It was really very silly for them to all
stand around like that, and----
“Where’s Taylor?” he asked suddenly in a voice that caused him to
wonder whether it was really his, so weak and husky was it.
“Taylor’s all right,” answered Kirk cheerfully. “They’ve taken him to
Hamment’s. How do you feel now?”
“Kind of funny; I guess I’m sleepy; I guess I’ll go home.”
“You’re going in a minute; they’re bringing a carriage.”
Dick started up wildly, clutching at Kirk’s arm.
“Is--is anything wrong with me?” he whispered hoarsely. “Have I broken
my leg, or--or anything?”
“No, certainly not. Only you’re rather weak, you know. We’re going to
take you back in a carriage so you won’t have to walk.”
“Oh.” He sank back again. Then he whispered: “I can’t have anything
the matter with me, you know, because there’s the crew, you see. We
have to think of that.”
“Certainly,” answered Kirk very, very gravely, “there’s the crew. And
here’s the carriage. And to prove to you that you’re all right I’ll let
you walk over to it. Bear a hand, Nesbitt.”
Dick was raised to his feet, and to his great relief found that he
could walk well enough, if a trifle unsteadily, and so reached the
carriage and sank into the seat. Trevor took his place beside him, and
Kirk sat by the driver, and they whirled away. Back of them the flames
were still leaping heavenward, flooding the sky with a crimson radiance
as they entered the academy gate.
“Are you all right?” whispered Trevor.
“Yes, I guess so; kind of tired. I was a silly chump to go and faint
that way.”
“Rot!” answered Trevor vehemently. “You--you’re a blooming hero, Dick,
that’s what you are!”
And for reply Dick only shut his eyes and leaned away from his chum.