"Grab it and pull, Miss!" he called across the intervening space. Lyddy obeyed. There was great confusion in the hall now, and overhead the fire roared loudly. The firemen were evidently pressing up the congested stairway with a line or two of hose, and driving the frightened people back into their tenements. If the fire was confined to the upper floor of the double-decker there would be really little danger to those below. But Lyddy was too frightened to realize this last fact. She planted the end of the plank upon her own sill and saw that it was secure. But it sloped upward more than a trifle. How would they ever be able to creep up that inclined plane--and four flights from the bottom of the shaft? But to her consternation, the young fellow across the way deliberately stepped out upon the plank, sat down, and slid swiftly across to her. Lyddy sprang back with a cry, and he came in at the window and stood before her. "I don't believe you're in any danger, Miss," he said. "The firemen are on the roof, and probably up through the halls, too. The fire has burned a vent through the roof and----Yes! hear the water?" She could plainly hear the swish of the streams from the hosepipes. Then the water thundered on the floor above their heads. Almost at once small streams began to pour through the ceiling. "Oh, oh!" cried Lyddy. "Right on the supper table!" A stream fell hissing on the stove. The big boy drew her swiftly out of the room into her father's bedroom. "That ceiling will come down," he said, hastily. "I'm sorry--but if you're insured you'll be all right." Lyddy at that moment remembered that she had never taken out insurance on the poor sticks of furniture left from the wreck of their larger home. Yet, if everything was spoiled---- "What's the matter with him?" asked the young fellow, looking at the bed where Mr. Bray lay. He had wonderfully sharp eyes, it seemed. "I don't know--I don't know," moaned Lyddy. "Do you think it is the smoke? He has been ill a long time--almost too sick to work----" "Your father?" "Yes, sir," said the girl. "I'll get an ambulance, if you say so--and a doctor. Are you afraid to stay here now? Are you all alone but for him?" "My sister--and my aunt," gasped Lyddy. "They're in the front room." "Keep 'em there," said the young man. "Maybe they won't pour so much water into those front rooms. Look out for the ceilings. You might be hurt if they came down." He found the key and unlocked and opened the door from the bedroom to the hall. The smoke cloud was much thinner. But a torrent of water was pouring down the stairs, and the shouting and stamping of the firemen above were louder. Two black, serpent-like lines of hose encumbered the stairs. "Take care of yourself," called the young man. "I'll be back in a jiffy with the doctor," and, bareheaded, and in shirt-sleeves as he was, he dashed down the dark and smoky stairway.