A ladder was coming, but it was not yet there; and the few seconds to follow were trying in the extreme. The smoke poured toward the window, and the flames came licking in at the door. “Hurry up!” gasped Gilbert. “Hurry! The flames are right behind us.” Then the ladder came, and a dozen men hoisted it up to the window. How he got outside with Nuggy in his arms, Gilbert could never tell afterward. He tried to descend, but his head swam around like a top; and all he could do was to hold on where he was. “We’re coming. Don’t move!” said a voice below him; and in a second his burden was taken from him. Then, as he felt his senses going, he slipped down the ladder, struck among a crowd of people, and for the moment knew no more. When Gilbert recovered, he found himself sitting on a bench in the rear of the prison yard, and several American soldiers in attendance upon him. “Lieutenant, you had a close call,” said one of the soldiers. “Another minute, and it would have been all over with you.” “Yes, I know it,” answered Gilbert, as he drew a deep breath. “I--I feel rather queer yet.” “I should think so! Better take it easy for a while.” “I’ll have to, sergeant. What of that man I brought out?” “He’s in a bad way, lieutenant. Reckon he was sick, wasn’t he?” “So I believe. But he’ll pull through, won’t he?” “Yes, he’ll pull through,” put in another voice, and a surgeon strode up. “Can I do anything for you, lieutenant?” “I don’t know that you can. I think after I have had a wash-up I’ll feel better.” The surgeon wished, however, to do all he could, and gave Gilbert a dose of medicine to counteract the effect of the smoke which the young lieutenant had inhaled. Inside of half an hour Gilbert felt quite like himself once more, though somewhat shaky in the lower limbs. Nuggy Polk had been taken to a neighboring building, which had been transformed into a temporary hospital for such of the prisoners as were sick. When Gilbert got there, he found the young man in a doze; and he was advised not to disturb him. “He has been sick, and this affair has made him worse,” said the prison doctor, in broken English. “Better let him rest.” And Gilbert agreed. An hour later found the acting captain of Company A at the home of the Bartletts, where a warm welcome awaited him. He found Amos Bartlett in an easy-chair, propped up by hair pillows. The old tea-merchant was glad to see him. “I am much better, thank you,” he said in answer to Gilbert’s query. “I seem to have come out of a bad dream.” “I am glad to see it,” returned the young lieutenant. “You must take it easy for a while, though, both in body and in mind.” “My mind is easy, thanks to what the insurance companies have promised to do and what my wife has found out about the Richmond Importing Company. I presume she has told you of what Nuglich Polk tried to do.” “I will tell him later on, Amos,” put in the wife. “But now you must rest.” And she beckoned Gilbert from the room.