"Tom, I think your great intellect has gone astray for once," remarked
Hazelton, in the privacy of their room upstairs.
"I never knew that I had any great intellect," Reade laughed. "However,
I was born to be suspicious once in a while. I suppose you were
referring to Frank Danes."
"Yes; and he appears to be a mighty decent fellow."
"I'm sure I hope he is," yawned Tom. "I'm willing to give him the
benefit of the doubt. I'm going to bed, Harry. What do you say?"
Hazelton was agreeable. Within twenty minutes both young engineers were
sound asleep.
It was after midnight when cries of "fire!" from the street aroused
them.
Tom Reade threw open the door to be greeted by a cloud of stifling
smoke.
"Hustle, Harry!" he gasped, making a rush to get into his clothing. "We
can get out, I think, but we haven't any time to spare. This old trap
is ablaze. It won't last many minutes!"
Trained in the alarms and the hurries of camp life, the young engineers
all but sprang into their clothes.
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