Theycouldsee the smoke from the end of the street. “It’s our house!” Elsashouted.
“It can’t be,”Alansaid. Buthe knew thatElsawas rightandthey both beganto run. There was a small crowd inthe streetoutside their house. Smoke wascoming outof the front window of the downstairs room, butthere was no signof anyflames.
And there was no sign of old Mr. Cox, Elsa’s father. He lived with them and had a roomupstairs atthe backof the house.He was not among the people in the crowd.
“Alan!” hiswifeshouted.“He’s asleepupstairs!Heprobablywenttobedandleftthe fire on in the front room!”
Herhusband beganto push his waythrough the crowdtowards the frontdoor. “Don’t be a fool!” someone shouted. “Wait for the firemen. They’ll be here any minute.”
ButAlanknewthathe mustnotwait. He putahandkerchief overhisface andranup the stairs. He pushed open the door of his father-in-law’s room. Old Mr. Cox was sleeping peacefully.
“What’s the matter?”he criedas hewoke up. “Nothingtoworryabout.Justasmallfiredownstairs,”Alantoldhim.“Now,getacoat onandput ahandkerchief overyour face like this.”
At the top of the stairs Alan made old Mr. Cox climb onto his back. Then he put a handkerchief over his own face and went down the stairs as quickly as he could. There was a cheer fromthe crowd as he came out of the house.
The fire engine and an ambulance arrived more or less at that moment. The first flameswerejustbeginningtocomeoutofthefrontwindow.“It’sallmyfault!” moaned old Mr. Cox as they carried himinto the ambulance. “I was reading the newspaper and Ileftitnear the electricfire