“Well, keep awake, do you hear? Can you walk?” There was no answer, but Dick could feel the other’s body shaking with sobs. “Cut that out!” he said savagely. “Brace up, man. Try to crawl to the window. I’ll help you. Let go my arm, hang you! Let go, do you hear?” With strong fingers he broke the detaining clutch and half lifted the other to his feet. “Come on; get to the window; they’re bringing ladders!” But Taylor, weakened by his long period in bed, unmanned by his awful experience alone and well-nigh helpless in the burning house, was incapable of standing. With a rush of pity, Dick let him slide toward the floor, until by stooping and moving backward he could pull him by the shoulders across the room. There was no time to consider the injured knee. The room was filled with smoke; the heat was becoming intolerable; in the hall just outside the door the flames were crackling noisily, and to the left the plaster was breaking and falling under the heat of the fire in the adjoining apartment. At the window Dick propped Taylor against the wall and threw up the sash. Outside all was light as day toward the front of the house. He could see figures moving to and fro, could hear the cries of the fire-fighters, but no ladders were in sight. Below the lawn was some twenty feet distant. He could drop if he had to with some hope of escaping anything worse than a bad jar. But Taylor? Suddenly, as he leaned there with the cool night air driving by him, he asked himself why he should have risked his life for Roy Taylor. Why continue to risk it? Of all fellows in the school Taylor was the last to deserve consideration, much less sacrifice, from him. He would wait as long as he could without endangering his life, he told himself, and then he’d drop from the window. And Taylor? Taylor was nothing to him; he deserved no help from him; he had injured him all that he could. Taylor must look to himself! And yet as the thoughts rushed through his mind, he knew deep down somewhere within him that they were all wrong, and knew that though the ladders never came he would not leave the youth that sat shaking, terrified beside him. “But they must come!” he muttered. And leaning out he called at the top of his voice for help. And then, around the corner of the house, from the back, rushed two figures and stared upward at him. They waved their hands excitedly. “Keep up! The ladder’s coming! Can you hold out a minute?” “Yes,” cried Dick. Perhaps the first temptation, as feeble as it had proved, had paved the way and weakened his conscience for that which now assailed him. “At least make him pay for it!” whispered a voice. “It is worth anything you can ask. Remember how he has injured you. Make your bargain!” He turned suddenly toward the lolling figure. “Taylor, do you hear me?” “Yes,” came the answer, weak and trembling. “Do you know who I am?” There was no reply. “I’m Hope!” An instance of silence followed. Then, “Hope!” came a whisper, low, incredulous.