With every instant the fire grew worse. By this time, the smoke and angry sheets of flame had burst through the roof and were streaming, with a mighty, threatening roar, straight up into the blackened sky--a splendid sight that was visible for a long distance. There was no water to check the mighty fire, for, a very few moments after the hose had been attached, the hydrant had burst and the water that should have been busy quenching the fire was quietly drenching the feet of many an unheeding bystander. And presently the thing that everybody expected happened. With a lingering, horrible crash a large part of the upper floor dropped to the main hall below. Smoke poured from the lower doors and windows. In another moment leaping hungry flames were visible in every room except the basement. The entire superstructure seemed now just like a gigantic, topless furnace; and of course it was no longer possible for even the firemen to venture inside. But _where_ was Mabel? CHAPTER XIII A Heroine's Come-Down MABEL, with the Janitor and four pursuing firemen at her reckless heels, had made a bold dash through the long corridor that led to Miss Bonner's room. Owing to a strong upward draft, there was surprisingly little smoke in this corridor and none at all in Miss Bonner's distant corner. Still hotly pursued, Mabel, who had the advantage of knowing exactly whither she was bound, darted down the narrow aisle, reached into her desk, and, unselfishly passing by sundry dearly loved treasures of her own, seized the fat brown purse. Such joy to find it when so many of the desks had been stripped of their contents! She was none too soon, for the next moment the Janitor's hands had closed upon her and, plump as she was, the sturdy fellow easily carried her out of the room, although Mabel protested crossly that she would much rather walk. In this uncomfortable fashion they reached the corridor. [Illustration: THE STURDY FELLOW CARRIED HER OUT OF THE ROOM.] "Not that way--not that way!" shouted the firemen, pointing towards a glowing, spreading patch on the ceiling of the main hall. "It's breaking through--you can't reach the door! It's not safe at that end." "Down to the basement!" shouted the Janitor, nodding toward a narrow doorway, through which the men promptly vanished. Then, seemingly, a new thought assailed the Janitor. "Open door number twelve," he shouted after the men. Then, hurriedly pushing up a sliding door at the safest end of the hall and murmuring "Quicker this way," the Janitor unceremoniously lifted Mabel and dropped her down the big dust-chute. What a place for a heroine! In spite of her surprise, Mabel felt deeply mortified. It was humiliating enough for a would-be rescuer to be rescued; but to be dropped down a horrid, stuffy dust-chute and to land with a queer, springy thud on a pile of sliding stuff--the contents of a dozen or more waste-baskets and the results of innumerable sweepings--was worse.