"Plagued fire! 'Course the house had to burn down on a night like this!" Screams and cries from the crazed mob below came up to the boys through the broken pane. The water ceased its flow, and Shorts, the most sober of the three, crept to the opening. Spuddy had crawled back to bed. Far beneath him, Shorts could see his fraternity brothers running wildly to and fro, frantically waving their arms to him. He could hear orders given in loud tones, and recognized the voices of Frederick Graves and Dan Jordan. It all flashed upon Shorts in a moment how greatly he and his chums were to blame for the disaster, for the fire must have started in the dining-room. He thrust his head through the lurid gleam to attract attention, and saw the men and boys in the yard bringing ladders to rescue them. Now they were splicing them together, to make it possible to reach the great height. Shorts made quick resolves.... If he lived.... He turned with a groan, and dragged Spuddy from the bed to the open window. "Stay there, and be ready, if you don't want to die," he commanded curtly. Shorts saw the ladder rear upward, and a form dart from the shadows. Dan Jordan was coming, hand over hand, toward him, the long ladder creaking under his weight. Jordan's face appeared at the opening. "Come out here," he commanded Shorts. Shorts pushed Spuddy forward. "Take him first, Captain," he said, with a twist in his voice. "He's drunk." Spuddy hung limp on the window-sill for an instant, and was then gathered into Dan's long arms. Shorts' bleared eyes saw the little chap handed safely to the earth, and the ladder again creaked under the upward steps of the big freshman. Shorts pushed Swipes toward the window as Dan called his name.... Now he was alone, and he leaned as far out as he could. "God! God!" he groaned. "The Captain's face is scorched brown.... God! dear God, bless him!" The crowds below were sending up cheer after cheer; myriads of sparks shot rocket-like high into the air, dying in the snow as they fell. Streams of water poured into the flaming windows. Jordan was coming up again. "Come out, Shorts," he heard Dan say, and he clambered over the sill. "Slip into my arms, old man," the deep voice persuaded. "Come, now; let go.... There, hang limper.... You're heavier than the others." He felt Dan take a downward step, and his head whirled around and around. They passed window after window, Shorts being carefully held under Dan's arm. Flames licked at them greedily, touching and shriveling their flesh. Smoke choked their nostrils cruelly. Shorts could feel the trembling of Dan's body, as his burned fingers grasped each rung of the ladder. To his mind the figures below looked like goblins dancing in the light. Suddenly, midway to the ground, the ladder creaked and groaned hideously. Jordan halted. "The ladder is bending, Shorts," he breathed hoarsely. He did not finish his sentence, but shouted, "Catch him!"