"My pot will soon be boiling," laughed Laura. "What are you going to throw in, Purt? And you, Mrs. Sweet? Give all you can--and as often as you can." "Oh, I'll start you off, Laura," declared Purt, pulling out a handful of coins that rang the next moment in the bottom of the iron pot. "Here's my purse, Prettyman!" called his mother, leaning from the car. "You put in my offering." The few bystanders around Laura's corner began laughingly to contribute before the torch reached the spot. But Short and Long arrived the next moment. He stooped, thrust the blazing torch into the middle of the fuel under Laura's pot, and wheeled to run to his next comer. The flames crackled, springing up ravenously. The boy's cotton gown flapped across the fire and before he could leap away the flames had seized upon the domino! "Oh, Billy!" shrieked Laura Belding. "You are on fire!" The short boy leaped away; but he could not leave the flames behind him. He threw down the torch and tried to tear off the domino. In a moment he was a pillar of flame! "A blanket! A robe! Quick, Purt!" cried Laura, and started toward the victim of the accident, bare-handed. For once Purt Sweet did as he was told, and did it quickly. He ran with the robe from the front seat of the automobile. Laura grabbed one end and together they wrapped their schoolmate in the heavy folds. Short and Long was cast to the street and they rolled him in the blanket. The fire was smothered, but what injury had it done to the boy? He was unconscious; for in falling he had struck his head, and the wound was bleeding. Mrs. Sweet was crying and wringing her hands. "Oh, it's awful! Purt! Purt! Take me home!" she sobbed. "No, Purt!" exclaimed Laura. "Take him to the hospital" "Of course we will," gasped the youth. "Help me lift him, Laura. Oh, the poor kid!" Only the few people near by had seen the accident. Not even a policeman came. Laura and Purt staggered to the car with the wrapped-up body of the smaller lad. His face was horribly blackened, but that might be nothing but smoke. Just how badly Billy Long was injured they could not guess. Mrs. Sweet shrank back into the corner of the tonneau seat and begged Laura to get in with the injured boy. "I can't! I can't touch him!" wailed the woman. "It's awful! Suppose he should be dead?" "He's not dead," declared Purt. "We won't let him die--the poor kid! Here, mother, you hold his head and we'll lay him down on the seat. Let his head and shoulders lie right in your lap." "Oh, Laura! Do come!" cried the woman. "I can't, Mrs. Sweet!" returned Laura, sobbing. "I've got to stay and watch my pot boil. Do be quick, Purt!" She stepped out of the car. Purt slammed the tonneau door and leaped to the steering wheel. In a moment the self-starter sputtered, and then the car wheels began to roll.