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Standish, Burt L., [pseud.]

"Frank Merriwell's Reward"


"You haven't sus-sus-seen him?" demanded Gamp.
Some firemen planted a ladder against the swaying wall, as if to brace
it, and a group came round the corner dragging a huge muddy hose, which
they intended to train on another part of the hotel. But, so far, the
fire had baffled all their efforts.
"Did he go up there?" Ready gasped.
"Sure!" said Danny. "He is up there now."
Ready's round, red-apple cheeks grew white.
"If he is up there now, he'll never come out!"
Bart stared at the shaking wall and the flaming windows--at the smoke
clouds rolling from the doorways. The hotel had become a furnace. Then
he stepped out, with a determined look on his dark face. Ready
understood the meaning of that look.
"You'll go to your death if you try it!" he declared. "It is hotter than
ten ovens, and some timbers fell from the second floor as I came out. If
I hadn't rolled under the stairway when I fell, and thus had protection,
I should have been cooked alive."
But if Hodge heard the warning, he did not heed it. He pushed aside
Ready's detaining hand and ran quickly across the street. They saw him
reach the first smoke-filled doorway, and then he was swallowed up in
the smoke. The other members of Merriwell's flock stood still, with
shaking limbs and anxiously beating hearts.


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