The Chief grunted. “Throw a ball from opposite roof, eh?” He looked upward toward the top of the five-story bank building behind them. “Where’d we get a ball and who’d throw it if we had it?” he demanded impatiently. “I’ll find a ball, sir, and twine,” cried Tom. “And--and I think I could throw it across.” The Chief turned and viewed him doubtfully an instant. Then, “Go to it,” he said briskly. “Get your ball and hurry back here. Jerry, you go with him and get him through. Come back here to the bank. Gus, tell Murphy to break an entrance there unless the folks have opened up. It’s a poor chance, but we’ll try it. They’ll never get up there with the scaling-ladders, and I’d hate to see those fellows jump.” Tom didn’t hear the last of it, though, for he was already racing around the corner of Main Street, followed by the fireman. At the rope he let the latter break a way through the crowd and pressed closely at his heels. A block away they were free of the throng and Tom sprinted to the store. A minute later he was inside and pulling boxes from a shelf. On the way he had thought it all out. He must have balls, a half-dozen to be on the safe side, and the strongest and lightest silk fishing line there was in stock, and some brass thumb tacks. The latter he had to search for, and it seemed that he would never find them. But he did, at last, and, his pockets bulging with baseballs, he hurried out again, locked the door, and raced back toward the fire, the panting fireman at his heels. It seemed that they would never make their way through the closely jammed crowd, but Tom’s guide used voice and elbows to good effect, and presently they were again ducking under the rope. At the entrance to the building across from the burning sky-scraper some thirty or forty persons awaited them; the Chief, several assistants, two men with axes, Mayor Kelland, Mr. George, some newspaper reporters, and many other privileged ones. “All right?” demanded the Chief. “Up we go! Not too many, now! Don’t get in the way!” Tom panted up the stairs beside Mr. George. “I got half a dozen balls,” he said, “and some fishing line. I guess you’d better try it. I’m--I’m tuckered. Are they still there?” “Yes, the fellow’s still standing on the ledge. The Chief tried to tell him through his trumpet that we’d sent for balls, but I don’t know whether he heard. They started up with the scaling-ladders, but had to give it up. Didn’t have nerve enough, I guess. Here we are, Tom! Up the ladder and through the small door there.”