TO THE RESCUE
"Uncle! Uncle Barton!" faltered Mary, as she clung to Mr. Keith. "Can't
we get down the stairs?"
"I'm afraid not, Mary," he answered, and he closed the door of his
office to keep out the smoke that was ever increasing.
"And won't the elevators come for us?"
"They don't seem able to get up," was his reply. "Probably the fire
started in the bottom of the shafts, and they act just like flues,
drawing up the flames and smoke."
"Then we must try the fire escapes!" exclaimed Mary, and she started
toward the front window, pulling her uncle across the room after her.
"Mary, there aren't--aren't any fire escapes!" he said hoarsely.
"No fire escapes!" The girl turned paler than before.
"No, not an escape as far as I know. You see, this was thought to be a
fireproof building at first and small attention was given to escapes.
Then the law stepped in and the owners were ordered to put up regular
escapes. They have started the work, but just now the old escapes have
been torn down and the new ones are not yet in place."
"Oh, but Uncle Barton! can't we do something?" cried Mary. "There must
be some way out! Let's try the elevators again, or the stairs!"
Before Mr. Keith could stop her Mary had opened the door into the hall.
To the agreeable surprise of her uncle there seemed to be less smoke
now.
"We may have a chance!" he cried, and he rushed out. "Hurry!"
Frantically he pushed the button that summoned the elevators. Down
below, in the elevator shafts, could be heard the roar and crackle of
flames.
"Let's try the stairs!" suggested Mary. "They seem to be free now."
She started down the staircase which went in square turns about the
battery of elevators, and her uncle followed. But they had not more
than reached the first landing when a roll of black, choking smoke,
mingled with sparks of fire, surged into their faces.
"Back, Mary! Back!" cried Mr. Keith, and he dragged the impetuous girl
with him to their own corridor, and back into his offices which, for
the time being, were comparatively free from the choking vapor.
"We must try the windows, Uncle Barton! We must!" cried Mary. "Surely
there is some way down--maybe by dropping from ledge to ledge!"
Her uncle shook his head. Then he opened the window and looked out. As
he did so there arose from the streets below the cries of many voices,
mingled with the various sounds of fire apparatus--the whistles of
engines, the clang of gongs, and the puffing of steamers.
"The firemen are here! They'll save us!" cried Mary, as she heard the
noises in the street below. "We can leap into the life nets."
"There isn't a life net made, nor men who could retain it, to hold up a
person jumping from the tenth story," said her uncle. "Our only chance
is to wait for them to subdue the fire."
"Isn't there a back way down, Uncle Barton?" "No, Mary!" He closed the
window for, open as it was, the draft created served to suck smoke into
the office, and Mary was coughing.
Uncle and niece faced each other. Trapped indeed they were, unless the
fire, which was now raging all through the building, with the stairs
and elevator shafts as a center, could be subdued. That the city fire
department was doing its best was not to be doubted.
"We can only wait--and hope," said Mr. Keith solemnly.
Mary gave a gasp. Her uncle thought she was going to burst into tears,
but she bravely conquered herself and faced him with what was meant to
be a smile. But it is difficult to smile with quivering lips, and Mary
soon gave up the attempt.
Mr. Keith went over to the water cooler--one of those inverted large
glass bottles--and looked to see how much water it contained.
"It's nearly full," he said.
"What good will it do?" asked Mary. "This fire is beyond a little water
like that."
"Yes, but it will serve to keep our handkerchiefs wet so we can breathe
through them if the smoke gets too thick," was his reply.
"It begins to look as if we'd need to try that soon," said Mary, and
she pointed to thick smoke curling in under the door.
"Yes," agreed her uncle. "It's getting worse." Hardly had he spoken
when there came a rush of feet in the corridor outside his office door.
Then a voice exclaimed:
"We're trapped! We can't get down either the stairs or the elevators!"
"It can't be possible!" said another voice. "Something must be done!
Help! Help! Take us out of here!"
"Foolish cowards!" murmured Mr. Keith, and then the door of his office
was violently opened and two men rushed in. They were strangers to Mary
and her uncle.
"Isn't there any way out of this fire trap?" cried one of the men. "Are
there any fire escapes at your windows?"
"None," said Mr. Keith.
"This is all your fault, Melling!" cried the smaller of the two men,
whose voice, in loudness and depth of pitch, was out of all proportion
to his size. "All your fault! I told you we should have those new fire
escapes!"
"And you were the one, Field, who objected to the cost of fire escapes
when you found what the charge would be," retorted the other. "You said
we didn't need to waste that money, if the building was fire-proof."
"But it isn't, Melling! It isn't!" yelled the other.
"We're finding that out too late!" came the retort. "But I'm not going
to die here like a rat in a trap!" And he raised the window and leaned
out and yelled, "Help! Help! Help!"
"Don't do that," said Mr. Keith, coming over to close the casement.
"They can't hear you down below, and opening the window will only fill
this place with smoke. Are you Field and Melling?"
"Yes, of the Consolidated Dye Company," was the answer from the big
man. "We are also part owners of this building, but I wish we weren't."
"It is a pretty poor specimen of a modern building," said Mr. Keith.
"You have offices here, haven't you?" he went on. "I remember to have
seen your names on the directory."
"We're on the floor above," was the answer from Field. "We were in a
rear room, going over some accounts, and we didn't know anything was
wrong until we smelled smoke. We tried to get down, and managed to
come, by way of the stairs, as far as this floor," he explained quickly.
"You can't go any farther," said Mr. Keith. "All there is to do is to
wait for the firemen."
"Suppose they never come?" whined Melling. "Oh, they'll come!" asserted
Mary's uncle, but he spoke more to quiet her alarm than because he
really believed it, for the Landmark Building was a seething furnace of
flame centering in and about the elevator shafts and stairs.
Meanwhile Tom and his companions in the airship had seen the red glow
in the evening sky, and in another minute the young inventor had turned
his craft more directly toward it.
"It surely is in Newmarket," said Mr. Damon. "Right in the center of
the city, too. There's one big building there--the Landmark."
"Looks as if that was afire," said Ned quickly. "Hasn't some relative
of Mary's an office there, Tom?"
"Yes. Mr. Keith. And her other uncle, Jasper Blake, is also interested
in the building. It's the Landmark all right!" cried Tom, as his craft
rose higher and advanced nearer the blaze.
"What are you going to do?" yelled Mr. Damon, as he saw the young
inventor head directly toward a spouting mushroom of flame, which
showed that the fire had broken through the roof. "What are you going
to do?"
"Go to the rescue!" answered Tom Swift. "I couldn't ask a better
opportunity to try my new extinguisher! Sit tight, every one!"