That was the smoke that had to do what Wigley Weigand told it to, and he scribbled all over the sky with it, that's what he did, and now it had turned around and killed him.
I knew that up to six or seven inches from the floor there is never much smoke and I knew he must have lain down low when he was almost unconscious and worked that damper.

And those fellows up there had been laughing and cheering all the while, when he was lying there like that.
I didn't see Artie anywhere and there wasn't any sound.

I lay down flat and crawled over to Wig and you bet I worked quick.

I tied his hands together with my scout scarf--it was the Silver Fox scarf--and I tied the scarf around my neck.
"Wig," I said, but he didn't speak and his legs and his neck hung loose, sort of, and it kind of scared me.

Then I crawled to the window, because I couldn't see the door, dragging him after me.