in their ears, like the roar of great waters from some cañon far below. Jimmie Dale tried to speak, and found his lips were cracked and dry. He wet them with his tongue.
"Don't stand up—we'd be seen—crawl," he mumbled hoarsely.
It took a long time—over one roof, and then another, and yet another—and then through the skylight of a tenement whose occupants were either craning from the front windows, or were on the street below. It was, perhaps, half an hour—and then they, too, were standing in the street, and all about them the crowd was shouting in wild excitement.
Up the block, inside the fire lines, the Sanctuary was blazing furiously—and now suddenly the wall seemed to bulge outward. It brought a yell from the crowd:
"Death to the Gray Seal!"
She pulled at his arm.
"Let us get away! Let us get away, Jimmie!" she whispered frantically.
A strange smile was on Jimmie Dale's lips.
"We're safe now—for always," he whispered back. "Look!"
The Sanctuary wall bulged farther outward, seemed to hang an instant hesitant in mid-air—and fell with a mighty crash.
The Gray Seal was dead!
THE END
