Dick waited to hear no more. Up the stairs he leaped. Guests were rushing downward through the smoke. One of them struck him and nearly knocked him down. They were screaming with fear. Pandemonium reigned in the hotel. Outside the fire-whistle set up a dull, awful call to the village firemen. “Room 42!” muttered Dick. The smoke got into his mouth and nose and nearly choked him. A kerosene-lamp had exploded, and the fire was spreading with appalling swiftness. It was on the second floor, and Dick knew Room 42 was on the third. The fire might cut him off, but he did not hesitate to rush up the second flight of stairs, down which a screaming woman and two cursing men tumbled recklessly. “Room 42!” he thought. “I believe I know where it is.” There was a light in the corridor, but the upward rolling smoke made it impossible to see the numbers on the doors. He reached the front of the house and flung a door open. In the middle of the room, attired in a nightdress, stood Chester Arlington, weak and trembling. “What is it?” he asked. “Is the hotel afire?” “That’s what!” said Dick. “Come on lively if you want to get out alive!” Chester started, but his knees seemed to buckle beneath him and he fell in a heap. “I can’t walk!” he cried feebly. “My legs!” Dick caught him up and rushed to the door. Up the stairs came a flash of fire, and it seemed that the staircase leaped into flames as he looked. “Trapped!” he gasped, “No chance of getting down that way!” He fell back and closed the door to stop the draft and keep out the smoke. With Arlington still in his arms, he rushed to a window at the front of the house and flung it up, calling for help. Down the street came the village hook-and-ladder company. The truck had long ladders upon it. “Right here!” cried Dick. “Run one of those ladders up here!” It seemed that the men worked very slowly and awkwardly. The fire-engine came smoking and stringing sparks along the street. A crowd had gathered below. Their faces were upturned and they waved their arms. “Don’t jump!” they cried. Higher and higher the ladders were run. Dick watched them coolly. He was supporting Arlington, who showed nerve and waited without agitation. At last the ladder reached the window. The young athlete lifted Chester in his arms and stepped through the window on to the ladder. Below the flames burst through a window and he gasped as smoke and heat threatened to topple him from the ladder. Still he held on and made his way downward. The crowd began to cheer. “Who is it?” “A cadet!” “Why, it’s Frank Merriwell’s brother! It’s Dick Merriwell! Hurrah for Dick Merriwell!” Down to the ground Dick bore Chester Arlington in safety. Chester’s mother was there and clasped her son in her arms. June was there, too, and she whispered in Dick’s ear: “I think you may keep the locket now!” CHAPTER X—A MASTER OF HIMSELF “Here he comes!”