sumed. In a moment, too, the pressure of bodies against
the double line of scouts about the door began to relax as those in the
rear made haste to seek other ways of escape. Presently it had ceased
entirely, and as the boys straightened up from their cramped positions
Mr. Curtis turned to face them.

"I'm proud of you, fellows," he said in a low, quick tone. "That was
corking! Steady, now, for a minute or two longer."

That minute or two seemed the longest space of time Bob Gibson had ever
known. Now that the stress and strain of strenuous action was removed he
had time to think, to wonder--to be afraid. His mother and father were
both here; so was Ted and little Flossie. Had they been in that awful
crush? he wondered, as his anxious gaze flashed from one to another of
the scurrying groups. Had they been hurt? The smoke was pouring more
thickly into the hall, stinging his eyes and catching his throat in a
choking sort of grip. Through the open windows came the clash and clang
of engines, the muffled roar of excited crowds gathering below. Bob
could see nothing of his mother or the children, and a dry sob came
from his tight lips.

"'Tention!" called the scoutmaster, sharply. "We'll take the two windows
at this side of the front, fellows. Line up on either side of them, and
keep the crowd in order. Women and children first, remember. Left face!
March!"

Bob pivoted mechanically and moved forward in step with MacIlvaine.
Through the swirling smoke he could see that the other troops had
gathered at different windows and were keeping the crowd in line,
helping the women and small children through to the fire-escapes or out
to the ladders which had just been raised. By this time the men, for the
most part, had recovered from their panic and were helping in the
work. Suddenly the boy caught sight of his mother in the line of people
close by the next window. She was carrying Flossie, and his father had
Ted over one shoulder. They both looked so calm and brave that Bob's
spine stiffened, and when he caught his mother's eye a moment later he
was able to smile and wave his hand almost as carelessly as if his
heart wasn't pounding unevenly at the sudden realization that not a
scout could stir until every one else was out of the building.

It wasn't a conscious longing for any one else's place. It was blind
fear, pure and simple; and though he tried to crush it down by thinking
of the people he was helping, it persisted and gr