Part 14 (1/2)

”Someone--a fireman, I suppose--is coming up the stairs, Dale.”

”What shall we do with him? Give him his quietus? I still have my hammer.”

”No--get in the corner here and watch what he's after. It won't help us to hurt him.”

The man moved on up the stairs until he pa.s.sed by the spot where Max and Dale were in ambush. He was a fireman, and his object seemed to be to find out at close quarters the extent and power of the fire. As the man pa.s.sed him, Max had a sudden idea.

”We must attack him after all, Dale,” he whispered. ”Come--help me so that no alarm is raised. I will tell you why in a moment.”

Sheltered by the fitful light and occasional gusts of rolling smoke, it was an easy matter to creep upon the fireman unawares and to bring him to the ground stunned and helpless. That accomplished, Max immediately proceeded to remove the man's tunic and helmet. Dale then understood--it was to be the ruse of the sham sentry outside the power-house over again.

”Now put them on, Dale,” cried Max rapidly. ”You can then go boldly down and out to the cordon of soldiers. They will let you through without question.”

”Not I,” replied Dale st.u.r.dily. ”I'm not going to leave you like that.

What will become of you, I should like to know?”

”I shall be all right. When the next fireman comes along I shall do the same. Now, go ahead, and don't delay.”

”No,” replied Dale decidedly. ”I'll not do it, Max. We will wait for the next fireman together if _you_ will not don the suit.”

”Dale--you will do as you are told!” cried Max, roused to sudden anger by his friend's unexpected obstinacy. ”I am Stroke of this crew--not you.”

”I know you are, but you are asking too much when you want me to leave the boat. Besides, I should never get through. I can't muster up nearly enough German. You put them on, old man--it's no use staying here when you might escape.”

”You shall suffer for this, Dale, upon my word you shall,” cried Max angrily, as he savagely thrust himself into the tunic, buckled on the belt and axe, and donned the great helmet. ”But if you think I am going without you you are badly mistaken. Come downstairs, near the entrance, and I will tell you what I propose.”

The two lads descended the stairs, bearing the unconscious fireman between them--for they could not bring themselves to leave him there to burn--until they reached the entrance to the building. There they deposited him just inside the door, in such a position that the first man entering would be sure to stumble over him.

Outside several engines were now in full swing pumping water into the first floor, which was burning furiously from end to end. The fire had spread to the upper floors, and the ground floor had begun to catch in several places. The whole workshop, indeed, seemed doomed to complete destruction, for the fire had obtained such firm hold that the engines seemed to make little impression upon it. From the shouts of the Germans it was clear that they were greatly enraged, and it was perfectly certain that the shrift of the authors of the fire, if they were caught, would be an exceedingly short one.

”Halt here for a moment, Dale, while I tell you what I propose. It is a desperate venture, but if you are still going to be obstinate it is all I can think of, and we might just as well try it as throw our lives away.”

”I'm absolutely obdurate, Max. I'm not going to be saved at your expense, so go ahead with your venture.”

”Well--it's this. I am going to sally out, wearing the fireman's uniform and carrying you in my arms. You are to feign unconsciousness. The idea is that you have been badly hurt, and I am carrying you out of reach of the fire. I have some hope that in my fireman's garb and with my blackened face they will let me pa.s.s.”

”All right--it sounds good enough, Max. At any rate, we shall keep together--whether we sink or swim.”

”Come along, then,” replied Max briskly, stooping down and lifting Dale in his arms. ”Let your head fall back and look as lifeless as you can.

It's now or never--absolutely.”

The cordon of soldiers with fixed bayonets, outside, suddenly saw the fireman--apparently the man who had entered the building a few minutes before--reappear, bearing in his arms the limp figure of a man rescued from the flames. The fireman strode straight out towards them, and as he reached them the men opened to right and left and let him pa.s.s through.

A non-commissioned officer followed him.

”What have you there, fireman?” he asked, as he endeavoured to catch a glimpse of the blackened face that hung so limply down. ”Is the man dead?”

”No--he still lives,” replied Max, moving on without checking his pace.

Other people were coming up, and his one thought was to get beyond the circle of light cast by the great fire before taking action.