"God, give me strength!" he cried; then mounted the ladder. He could feel it sway. Flames leaped from the windows as he passed. He caught at the rounds with his left hand as well as his right, and up, up he went. The girl leaned far out. "Drop down. Hold to the window sill! I'll catch you," the lad called. Lena May did as she was told, and, clinging to the top round with his left hand, Dean clasped the girl's waist with his strong right arm and climbed down as fast as he could go. He did not realize that he was using his left arm. He had to, it was a matter of life and death. A pain like that made by a hot branding iron shot through his shoulder, but even this he did not know.