He cast about for some sort of protection. A flimsy
curtain of cotton material was stretched across a doorway. This Hodge
pulled down and wrapped round his head, protecting his hands with it
also as well as he could. Then he measured the stairway and its
direction with a quick glance, and made a wild dash for the fire.
He went up the stairway at a run, with his clothes scorching and the
protecting cotton cloth bursting into flame. It was a desperate spurt,
but Hodge went through the fire, and with a bound threw himself beyond
it, and felt, rather than knew, that he was in some kind of hall, where
the fire was not so bad. He pulled aside the flaming cloth, pitched it
from him, put up his scorching hands to shield his eyes, and looked
about.
"Merriwell!"
The cry was one of joy.
"Merriwell!"
This time the exclamation held the tone of fear and dread. Frank
Merriwell was lying in this space, which Bart saw now to be a wide
corridor. Frank seemed unconscious. He was lying close against the wall,
with his arms doubled over his head. Near him was a piece of timber
which had fallen from the floor above. Other pieces of timbers seemed
about to fall from the same place. This one, as Bart saw at a glance,
had struck Merriwell down.
Bart's heart almost stopped beating when the thought came to him that
perhaps Frank was dead.
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