increasing.

"Ninety-four!" he shouted at the full strength of his lungs. "This way,
Ninety-four!"

He could hear from below a tumult of shouts and commands; but none of
them appeared to be an answer to his cry.

The roaring of the fire as it came through the elevator-shaft could be
clearly distinguished even above all the noise, and he knew full well
the blaze must soon make its way through the door, which presented but a
frail barrier against the on-rush of flame.

"Ninety-four! Here, Ninety-four!" he cried once more without receiving a
reply, and feeling comparatively strong for another struggle against the
smoke, he drew the covering more closely around the child's head, at the
same time stepping back into the suffocating vapor.

He made his way by sense of touch rather than sight into the adjoining
apartment.

It was the kitchen of the suite, and at one end, stretched across from
wall to wall above the range, was a cord on which hung several articles
of wearing apparel.

Placing the child, who had ceased to struggle, on the floor, he tore at
this apology for a rope with all his strength, dragging it from its
fastenings, and, taking up the baby once more, ran back to the window
from which he had just come.

It was but the work of a few seconds to tie one end of the cord under
the child's arms; but yet it seemed to him, half bewildered and
suffering as he was, that more than five minutes passed before it had
been completed.

[Illustration: SETH RESCUES THE BABY. _Page_ 272.]

"Ninety-four!" he shouted as he thrust the seemingly lifeless body
through the aperture, cutting his hands and arms again and again on the
sharp points of glass.

Quickly, but at the same time gently, he lowered the burden until the
cord was at its full length.

It did not seem possible this poor substitute for a life-line extended
much below the top of the first story, and he dared not let go his hold
lest the child should be dashed to death upon the pavement.

Once more he called for the men who he knew must be close at hand,
leaning far out of the window in the faint hope he might be seen.

His eyes were so blinded that he could distinguish nothing; he was
unable to say whether the smoke yet enveloped him or if he was in full
view of the men below.

The sense of suffocation was heavy upon him; he tried to repeat Josh
Fernald's words, but failed, and then came the knowledge--dim and
unreal--that the cord was slipping, or be