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.
"Cut it," retorted Darrin briskly.

"Keep the rope steady.

I'm going down there." "Can you-----" "Yes!" blazed Dave recklessly.

"Watch me.