"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 grew stronger, just as the smoke grew steadily denser and more choking, and the crackle of flames seemed to come from behind the closed doors with ominous distinctness. When the electric lights suddenly went out leaving only the two oil side-lamps burning dimly, it was all he could do to keep from crying out with terror. Indeed, he instinctively took a quick step out of line toward the window, but Mr. Curtis's cool voice halted him: