ion of other sounds without.

He burst up the rickety, old trap with his shoulders, and was met
immediately by a stifling cloud of smoke. The interior of Seneca
Sprague's shack was filled with the pungent vapor, although the flames
were still on the outside.

"Don't get burned, Neale!" cried Agnes, coughing below from a rift of
smoke, as the boy climbed into the little room.

"You better go away," returned Neale, in a muffled voice.

"I'll take an armful of books when I do go--if you'll hand 'em down to
me," cried his girl chum.

"Oh, Aggie! if you get hurt Ruth will never forgive me," cried Neale,
really troubled about the Corner House girl's presence in this place of
danger.

"I tell you to give me some of those books, Neale O'Neil!" cried Agnes.
"If you don't I'll come up in there and get them."

"Oh, don't be in such a hurry!" returned Neale.

He came to the smoky opening with his arms full and began to descend the
steps, which creaked under his weight. He slipped on the skates which he
had had no time to remove, and came down with a crash, sitting upon the
lowest step. But he did not loose his hold on the books.

"Oh, Neale! are you hurt?" Agnes demanded.

"Only in my dignity," growled the boy, grimly.

Agnes began to giggle at that; but she grabbed the books from him. "Go
back and get some more--that's a good boy!" she cried, and, whirling
about, shot out from under the wharf.

The worried Ruth, who had not seen the first of this adventure, was
standing near. Agnes deposited the volumes at her sister's feet.

"Look out for them, Ruthie!" Agnes cried. "Neale's going to get them
all."

With this reckless promise she sped back under the burning wharf. Water
was pouring upon the goods' shed now, freezing almost as fast as it
left the hose-pipes, but the firemen had not reached the little shack.

Joe Eldred and some of the other boys reached the scene of Ruth's
trouble and quickly understood the situation. If Neale O'Neil wanted to
save Seneca Sprague's books, of course they would help him--not, as Joe
said, that they "gave a picayune for the crazy old duffer."

"Form a chain, boys! form a chain!" commanded Neale's muffled voice from
inside the burning shack, when he learned who was below. And this the
crowd did, passing the armfuls of books back and out from under the
wharf as fast as Neale could gather them and hand them down.

Agnes found herself put aside when Joe and his comrades got to work. B