am had escorted the heaviest one
across to Whimple's office that the others, despite the rapid approach
of the fire, could be persuaded to venture. Convinced of the safety of
the "bridge," they began to make the journey rapidly enough. Lucien
calmly and quietly encouraged them. William said nothing, but he
carried out with alacrity every suggestion Lucien made.

By this time a detachment of the fire brigade was on the scene. Three
of the firemen, with a hose, rushed up the front stairs of Whimple's
office and to the window through which the girls were coming.

"Well, I'll be swizzled," said one of them, excitedly, "who made the
bridge?"

One of the girls paused a moment before leaving the office. "Two
boys," she cried, hysterically, "they're in the factory helping the
other girls."

"Bully for them," shouted one of the firemen. The next moment he
hurried across the "bridge," which bore his weight splendidly, and
assisted the boys. Other firemen, with more hose, arrived, and several
streams of water were soon playing on the factory walls below the
"bridge."

"We'll save this building, anyway," said one of the firemen, handling a
hose from one of Whimple's windows. And save it they did.

As the last girl crossed the bridge, the fireman who had been assisting
Lucien and William ordered them to get out quickly. The big room was
now full of smoke, the lads and the firemen were almost choked with it,
and tongues of flame were beginning to lick one of the wooden partition
walls. Just as the man spoke, the partition fell. A burning scantling
struck Lucien on the head and sent him to the floor. In a moment
William grabbed the burning timber with his bare hands and tried to
lift it, but without the assistance of the fireman, who inserted his
hook-axe under it, and added a man's strength to that of the boy's, he
would not have been successful. Lucien was still conscious when they
picked him up, and, with the assistance of William, made the journey
across the "bridge" to Whimple's office in safety. Here kindly hands
temporarily bound up his wounds and those of William too, the latter
meanwhile asserting loudly, "Lucien did it; he thought of it; Lucien
did it."

Finally, Lucien's parched and cracked lips parted in a smile.
"Couldn't have done it without you, William," he gasped, and then the
floor, so William Adolphus Turnpike afterwards solemnly asserted, rose
up and hit him, and he knew nothing more until, i