Greg, you and Dan get in behind Dave to help on the hoist.

See, Dave! That third window from the end--- there's where the rope wants to go." "You going down the rope ?" queried Darrin dryly.
"Yes." "Wait, then, and I'll tie some knots in it." "No time for that," vetoed Dick sharply.
"I'll have to take my chances.

Miss Dodge may be smothering, or burning.

Pay it out---fast!" Dick watched until he saw that the rope had gone low enough, and that it hung before the right window.
"Now, brace yourselves, fellows!" he called, between his hands, for the roar of the flames and the crackling of timbers made some sort of trumpet necessary, even at short range.
On his knees, his back to the street, at the edge of the roof, Dick Prescott seized the rope.
Then, with a fervent inward prayer, he started over the edge, and hung in the air, eighty feet from the ground.
Down below, the ever-increasing crowd let out a cyclonic, roaring cheer.

It was a foolish thing to do, for it might have rattled the young football player.