Again Frank let out a whoop, and was cheered to catch an answering cowboy yell. Then it was not his chum after all, but one of the punchers. Somehow, this thought gave Frank renewed courage, for every one of the Rockspur outfit must be well acquainted with the barn's angles that had proved so confusing to him, and could thus lead the way to an exit. Nearer came the booming voice, heard despite all the clamor around him. Now the boy could glimpse a moving figure, pushing in a beeline for the quarter where he chanced to be. "Jerry! is it _you_?" Frank shrilled, somehow touched by this evidence of affection on the part of the old rustler who did not hesitate to risk his own life in the endeavor to save that of his young friend. "It sure is, Frank! I'm comin' to git yuh out o' this hot box. Hain't got much time to waste neither, 'case the hull pesky roof is shore to drap in on us right quick." Jerry had taken hold of Frank's left arm while saying this, and immediately commenced moving backward the way he had come. What a feeling of confidence came over the imperiled boy when he felt those friendly fingers in contact with his person. It seemed as though a tremendous load rolled off his shoulders in the magic of that touch. Apparently Jerry was leading him toward what looked like a danger point to be avoided; but, somehow, Frank felt no apprehension. Jerry must know the barn like a book; indeed, possibly he himself had helped build it in those days when as a much younger man he had worked on this ranch. Sure enough, by a sudden turn they managed to put the worst of the fire behind them. Frank even believed he felt the first whiff of fresh air, and, oh! how eagerly did he draw it into his tortured lungs. "Hyar we are, younker!" exclaimed the veteran cowboy as they pushed past a last nest of fire and reached the open air. "Look, Dad! There's Frank, safe and sound!" a voice bellowed, and Lanky, followed by the limping Paul, came rushing toward the pair who had just emerged from the roaring furnace. How the other boys did squeeze Frank's hands and almost cried, such was the tense condition of their strained nerves! Frank turned and looked back, shuddering. It was not his own narrow escape that made him feel so weak, but the still haunting dreadful fear that perhaps Lanky's mother and Minnie had been swallowed up in the pitiless conflagration. "Oh! Lanky--is there any news--have you heard--Minnie--your mother?" His whole soul was in that cry, and although his eyes were still burning and smarting from the effects of the smoke, he fastened his gaze on his chum in a most entreating way. "Cheer up, Frank!" exclaimed Lanky, slapping his chum's shoulder in what was intended to be an encouraging way. "We've reason to believe Mom and Minnie weren't in the barn after all when the fire started." Frank drew a long breath and leaned on Lanky, his sensation of relief leaving him weak and wobbling.