That became instantly the cry: 

“Dick & Co. to the rescue!”

Yet none of the sextette heard it.

They were all inside, at the first step of their projected deed of bravery.

“All of you but Dave run through the offices!” yelled Dick.  “Some of the tenants must have fire-rope coils.  Grab the first rope you can find and bring it to me on the roof.  Hustle!  Dave, you follow me!”

Even to boys daily grilled on the football gridiron it was no mere matter of sport to dart up five flights of stairs at fast speed.

Dick Prescott was panting as he reached the roof and threw open the skylight door.

But he got out on the roof, hurrying across it, doing his best, at the same time, to gulp in chestfuls of fresh air.

Then he came to the edge of the roof next to the burning building.

The roof of that other building was about fifteen feet below the Roof on which Dick Prescott stood.

After an instant of swift calculation young Prescott jumped.

He landed, below, on the balls of his feet, though the next instant the momentum of the fall carried him forward onto his hands.

In another twinkling Prescott was up, running toward the front edge of the building.

He stopped at the skylight door, but discovered that the flames and smoke below shut off hope there.  So he continued to the front of the roof.

Here Dick glanced back, for a second, to make sure that Dave had followed safely.

Darrin was on his feet, and waved his hand reassuringly.

Then Dick Prescott leaned out, peering down at the front of the burning building.

“There’s Prescott!” shouted some of the most enthusiastic watchers.

“Hurrah.  Old Gridley High School!”

But Dick paid no heed to the crowd.  He was trying to locate the window at which Grace Dodge had appeared, and was trying to contrive how he would use a rope when one came.

In the meantime Darrin, having jumped to the lower roof, remained where he had dropped, awaiting the arrival of the other fellows with a rope.

After a few moments they came.  Reade had a coil of inch rope, which he waved enthusiastically.

“Wait until we get the rope uncoiled,” called Greg.  “Then we’ll lower some of us down to join you”

“Lower –­nothing!  Jump!” yelled Dave, in a stentorian quarter-deck voice.

Greg obeyed, instanter.  Tom flung the coil of rope below, then followed it.  Hazelton and Dalzell, an instant later, were with their comrades.

“Come on, now,” ordered Darrin, who had snatched up the coil of rope and was darting over the roof.  “Dick’s waiting for us.”

Prescott, still looking below, heard the swish of ropes on the roof as Dave uncoiled and threw the lengths out.

“Good!” yelled Dick, looking back.  “Tom, you take a turn or two of the rope around that chimney, for anchor.  Dave, you stand here at the roof edge to pay out the rope.  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.  But Prescott paid no attention to the racket, and kept on lowering himself, coolly.

Here was where his gym. training and all his football practice came in splendidly.  Every muscle was strong, every nerve true to its duty!

Not once did Prescott fear that he would lose his grip and fall to the street below.

Up above, at the roof’s edge, stood Darrin, directing as though from quarter-deck or military-top.  Dave had to lean rather far out, at that great height, but it did not make him dizzy.

“There!  The grand old chap has landed on the window-sill!  He has gone inside!” cried Dave, turning to his comrades.  “Now we can wait until we feel a signal-pull on the rope.”

As he turned away from the smoke that was coming up through the air Darrin realized how much smoke he had inhaled.  He thumped his chest lightly, taking deep breaths.

Dick was in the studio now.

Close to the window, where the draught was strongest, Prescott found the smoke so thick that he had to grope his way through it; but bending low, he quickly came to where Grace Dodge lay unconscious on the floor.

She looked lifeless, as she lay there.

“Whew!  I’m afraid she’s a goner, already!” thought Dick, with a great surge of compassion.

However, seizing the unconscious girl by the shoulders he dragged her swiftly over the floor to the window through which he had come.

The rope still dangled there.

Seizing it, Dick gave it a gentle pull –­not too hard, for fear the jerk might catch good old Dave of his guard and yank him over the roof’s edge.

In another instant Darrin was “back on the job,” peering down.

Dick made a signal that Dave understood perfectly.

Prescott’s next care was to knot his end of the rope swiftly around Grace’s body, above the waist, adjusting the coils so that considerable of the strain would come under the shoulders, where it could best be borne.

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!