He leaped toward him, with a bound, uttering
that cry of "Merriwell!" as he did so.
"Frank! Frank!" he cried. "Frank, are you much hurt?"
The roaring of the fire in the stairway sounded louder, than ever. Its
noise was like that of a raging furnace. Bart's hands were scorched, but
he did not feel the pain of the burns. Another piece of timber dropped
from the floor above within a foot of where he stood. Others seemed
about to fall. There was fire all round him, and the whole corridor
seemed on the point of leaping into flame.
Hodge lifted Merry's unconscious form and faced the fire. A groan came
from Merriwell's lips. Bart looked into the white face and saw a bloody
lump on the side of Merry's head. That face appealed to him as if for
protection from the fire.
In spite of his many faults, Bart Hodge held for Frank Merriwell the
love of a strong and manly heart. Frank was the one true and faithful
friend who had always stood by him--the one friend who always understood
him--the one friend who was every ready to defend him. And Hodge would
have laid down his life for Merriwell!
He saw that if he dashed through the fire with Merriwell, that face, so
strong and manly and true, would be horribly disfigured. He did not
think of his own so much as of Merriwell's.
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