The smell of smoke came to his nostrils as he turned another corner. The fire had obtained a fine start before it was discovered. Through the buildings and the trees the red glow was bursting forth with greater brightness each moment.
Another corner turned, and the burning house was before him, with the fire bursting from its upper windows.
“It’s Darius Conrad’s house!” cried somebody.
“Retribution!” exclaimed Frank. “It is the hand of fate that strikes the man!”
For a moment a feeling like exultation ran all over him. He stopped running, and walked forward slowly. Before the house a number of persons could be seen huddled together, as if they were dazed, while others were running about wildly in the red glare of the fire.
“Are they all out of the house?” asked somebody.
Just then the door burst open, and a man came out in a few scanty garments, looking as if he plunged from a sea of fire, which glowed red and yellow behind him. He ran out into the middle of the street, waving his arms above his head and shouting. There he fell in the dust, and the crowd gathered about him.
“Oh, my son! my son!” groaned the man, as he writhed prostrate in the dust. “I went back for him! I could not reach him! He is in there somewhere--sick, wounded, helpless! My God! Can no one save him?”
“Too late!” said a voice. “Is he in one of the chambers?”
“The entire upper part of the house is in flames!”
Such a cry of heart-breaking anguish! It stirred Frank Merriwell’s heart.
“I will try to find him and bring him out!” came in a tone of determination from Frank’s lips.
“God bless you!” gasped Darius Conrad. “If you will----”
But the volunteer life-saver was gone. Hands were outstretched to stop him, but he avoided them; voices called for him to come back, but he heeded them not. In at the door he plunged.
“Yes,” said a man; “and that is the last of him. He’ll never come out of that!”
Darius Conrad, wicked old sinner that he was, knelt down in the dust and prayed. His wife found him kneeling there, and knelt at his side. They prayed for their son--their only boy.
The flames crackled with an exultant sound, and the yellow smoke rolled upward. The moments seemed hours. In the distance the volunteer firemen could be heard coming with the hand tub. By the time they reached the spot there would be nothing for them to do but wet down some of the nearer houses to keep them from catching, for then a city fire engine would be unable to save the home of Darius Conrad.