Once more Dick leaned out of the window, making motions.  Dave Darrin nodded.  The fascinated crowd in the street looked up, breathless.  Few now even thought to wonder why the fire department did not appear.

At Dave’s command the others on the roof with him began to hoist.  Slowly, Dick aided Grace’s body through the window.  Then the girl, motionless, so far as she herself was concerned, swung in the air, slowly ascending.

Now groans of horror went up from the street.  It seemed to the onlookers below as though a dead body were being hoisted.

Dick had made a loose hitch of the end of the rope so that it bound the girl’s skirt about her ankles.

As he watched, he saw the swinging body steady at the roof edge.  Then Grace disappeared from his sight as Dave and the others hauled her to momentary safety.

“Ugh!” gasped young Prescott.  The smoke and the hot air, filling his lungs, drove him back from the open window to a spot where the draught was less intense.

After a few moments he heard something clattering against the window frame.

“What is it?” wondered Dick, dreamily, for his senses were leaving him.

Rousing himself, by a supreme effort of the will, the young football player staggered toward the window.  It was the rope, which Dave had lowered for him.  And thoughtful Darrin had swiftly knotted a strong slip-noose at the end.

Dick had just strength and consciousness enough left to slip this noose over his head and down under his armpits, drawing the noose tight.  Then—–­so fast was the hot air and smoke overcoming him that he had to fight for it!—–­Dick forced his way to the sill and gave a hard tug at the rope.  Then he reeled, falling back senseless upon the floor.

In that same instant, not far behind him, the flames burst through the flooring.

There must be some quick work, now, or Dick Prescott would meet a hero’s death at seventeen!

CHAPTER XXI

THE PRICE OF BRAVERY

Dave Darrin did not falter in his duty for an instant.

He had been waiting for that tug on the rope.

Now he leaned out, and as far over as was possible without pitching himself headlong into the street below.

“Dick!  Oh, Dick!” he roared.

There was, of course, no answer, for young Prescott day senseless on the floor, smoke and hot air filling his lungs, the creeping flames threatening to pounce upon and devour him.

Wondering, Dave gave a slight signal tug himself at the rope.

From below there was no answer.

“Something uncanny has happened, down there!” muttered Darrin.

“What’s wrong?” called Reade.

“I wish I knew,” muttered Dave.  “There is no further signaling.”

“Then-----”

That was as far as Tom got with his hint at an explanation.