Bud was directly behind the Mexican. He saw the man disappear down into the smoke, and taking a full breath, the boy followed. He found himself below ground, and for a moment hesitated to get his bearings. The air was choking, but the heat was not intolerable. The fire had not quite reached the lower floor. There was no time to be lost, for any minute the building might collapse and bury them. Bud plunged on. He could see faintly now, and he caught a glimpse of a figure in front of him, beckoning. "Go--ahead!" the boy gasped. "Coming!" A few steps further and he stumbled against a door. At his side was the Mexican, pointing. Bud pushed frantically, but the door refused to budge. Then he found the reason. It was bolted. "You--you locked them in! You inhuman----" He saw the Mexican shrug his shoulders. Even in the burning building the Latin's philosophical mind did not desert him. Bud struggled with the bolt. It stuck. He strove with all his strength--and the door flew open. The boy stumbled in. His foot struck a body stretched upon the floor. He reached down and lifted the unconscious man to his shoulder. Behind him he heard a voice. It was that of Yellin' Kid. "Give him here!" The Kid seized the limp form and passed it to someone at his side. "We'll get 'em out like a bucket-brigade! Pass 'em to me, Bud!" Through the smoke Bud groped his way. His hand encountered another body. In a moment he lifted the man and passed him to the Kid. His head felt as if it were bursting, but on he struggled, seeking, hands outstretched. He passed another body out to the Kid. Another. Then he heard a moan and turned toward it. A man lay against the wall. His hands moved feebly, and even in the smoke and gloom Bud, could see blood streaming from a cut on his head. The boy bent over and grasped the man's arm. His face was within an inch of the other's. "Delton!" The boy's cry was involuntary. Here, under his very hands, was the man who was the cause of their misfortunes--who had committed crimes, no telling how many, and who had perhaps shot one of their comrades. And yet Bud was risking his life to save this creature. Was it fair to ask----? A low moan came from the wretched figure. Bud looked for a long moment at the blood-stained face. Then with a sudden heave he lifted him and staggered to the door. "I'll take him!" he gasped to the Kid, who had reached for the burden. "See if there are any more!" He heard Yellin' Kid smashing against the walls in an effort to locate other senseless figures. Then he followed Bud. "Can't find any more. Ask the Mex how many----" The cook heard the inquiry and flung his arms wide, indicating that the rest had made their escape. The Kid, gasping, plunged out into the open.