en Johnny Smith, and then the father.
And all while the boy next door held the plank firmly in place against the
window-sill of the burning flat.

Lyddy threw up the window and screamed something to him as the last Smith
passed him and disappeared. She couldn't have told what she said, for the
very life of her; but the young man across the shaft knew what she meant.

He drew back the plank a little way, swung his weight upon the far end
of it, and then let it drop until it was just above the level of her sill.

"Grab it and pull, Miss!" he called across the intervening space.

Lyddy obeyed. There was great confusion in the hall now, and overhead the
fire roared loudly. The firemen were evidently pressing up the congested
stairway with a line or two of hose, and driving the frightened people
back into their tenements. If the fire was confined to the upper floor
of the double-decker there would be really little danger to those below.

But Lyddy was too frightened to realize this last fact. She planted the
end of the plank upon her own sill and saw that it was secure. But it
sloped upward more than a trifle. How would they ever be able to creep up
that inclined plane--and four flights from the bottom of the shaft?

But to her consternation, the young fellow across the way deliberately
stepped out upon the plank, sat down, and slid swiftly across to her.
Lyddy sprang back with a cry, and he came in at the window and stood
before her.

"I don't believe you're in any danger, Miss," he said. "The firemen are on
the roof, and probably up through the halls, too. The fire has burned a
vent through the roof and----Yes! hear the water?"

She could plainly hear the swish of the streams from the hosepipes. Then
the water thundered on the floor above their heads. Almost at once small
streams began to pour through the ceiling.

"Oh, oh!" cried Lyddy. "Right on the supper table!"

A stream fell hissing on the stove. The big boy drew her swiftly out of
the room into her father's bedroom.

"That ceiling will come down," he said, hastily. "I'm sorry--but if you're
insured you'll be all right."

Lyddy at that moment remembered that she had never taken out insurance on
the poor sticks of furniture left from the wreck of their larger home.
Yet, if everything was spoiled----

"What's the matter with him?" asked the young fellow, looking at the bed
where Mr. Bray lay. He had wonderfully sharp eyes, it seemed.

"I don't know--I do