WRECK OF THE TOWER
A loud shout of laughter went up at the surprised look on Bart's face.
He did not know what to say, and he shook his head to get rid of the
confetti that clung even to his eyebrows. He had hoped to get away
undiscovered but his chums had been too smart for him. He opened his
mouth to speak, and the hickory nut he had placed in it to make his
voice sound deep, dropped out and rolled on the floor. At this there was
more laughter.
"Very well done, Bart," observed Principal McCloud. "I think school is
dismissed," he added, as he and the other teachers joined in the
laughter.
"Come again, Bart," said Ned, as he and the other boys crowded about the
impersonator of Santa Claus.
"Off with his uniform!" one of the boys called, and, before Bart could
defend himself, he was being pulled this way and that, until the red
suit he had gone to such trouble to make was a thing of shreds and
tatters.
"It's just like poor King Lear, being all torn apart by the winds,"
exclaimed Jennie Smith, though some of her companions could not quite
see the simile. "Oh, I would love to recite something," she went on.
"Go ahead," said Mary Tedwell. "I guess no one will hear you," and she
laughed rather maliciously.
"Mean old thing!" exclaimed Jennie. "She's mad because she can't recite
poetry."
Now Bart was entirely stripped of his Santa Claus suit, and the boys and
girls, securing pieces of it, formed a ring about the lad and marched
around singing any tune that came into their heads. The teachers had
retired, leaving the pupils to finish in their own fashion the
celebration attendant upon closing of school for the holidays as they
knew there would be little trouble.
But all things must have an end and the merry frolic of the boys and
girls was gradually brought to a close. Those who had received the odd
presents from Bart were made to exhibit them, and many were the jibes
and quips that accompanied the display.
On all sides and from scores of girls and boys came the greeting,
"Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year," for school would not assemble
again until the second week in January.
One by one the pupils left for home. The big auditorium became quieter
and soon only the four chums, Alice and Jennie, and a few of their
friends remained.
"Come on," said Bart. "I'll stand treat for hot chocolate at Fanton's
Drug Emporium."
The boys and girls were a little later on their way to the "Emporium" as
the sign in the window declared it to be.
"Coming to the entertainment Friday night?" asked Jennie of Fenn, when
they were sipping the hot beverage.
"What entertainment?"
"The Y. M. C. A. is going to give one in the school auditorium. Moving
pictures and some music. Alice and I are going."
"Sure I'm coming," Stumpy replied, though it was the first he had heard
of it. But Stumpy wasn't going to be left out if there were girls in it.
"Where you going?" asked Bart, overhearing the talk.
"Entertainment--school hall--Y. M. C. A.--Mov--ing pict--ures."
The breaks Fenn made, in imparting the information, were caused by the
sips of chocolate he took between his words.
"We'll all go," decided Bart. "We'll be over our Christmas dinners by
then."
Finishing their chocolate the boys and girls walked together down the
street on their way home. As they separated they wished each other the
joys of the season.
Christmas, which came next day, was celebrated in Darewell much as it is
celebrated every where in Christian lands. There was happiness in the
homes of the four chums, not only at the gifts which they received, but
also over those they gave. Each one remembered Mrs. Perry and her two
girls, and, it is safe to say, it was the best Christmas the widow's
family had experienced since trouble came.
"If only Willie was home now," Mrs. Perry said to Jane as they looked at
the gifts which had come so unexpectedly to them, "we would be very
happy."
"Perhaps he will be with us next Christmas," Jane remarked, trying to
comfort her mother. "Let us hope so anyhow. We are much more happy than
we were the day before Thanksgiving when everything seemed so black."
"Yes, thanks to those good boys," the widow replied. "Well, we will
trust in Providence. Perhaps Willie may come back to us."
The day of the Y. M. C. A. entertainment proved to be one of the
coldest of the winter. It dawned with a dull leaden sky, filled with
lowering clouds, and there was a nip to the air that made thick wraps a
necessity. The wind, which had been blowing strongly in the morning,
increased in violence as the day advanced until by evening it was
blowing half a gale.
But the boys and girls who crowded into the school auditorium did not
mind this. It only made their cheeks redder, and though the wind did
toss and tumble the hair of the girls it only caused them to look all
the prettier, at least so Fenn thought, and he ought to know.
"B-r-r-r! It's a regular hurricane!" exclaimed Bart as he and Alice
entered the hall, where they found a number of their friends. The
entertainment had not yet begun.
"It must be getting colder," observed Ned.
"What makes you think so?" asked Bart.
"Your nose is as red as a beet."
"It feels half frozen," Bart answered. "That comes of having such a big
one. But it's a sign of greatness you know."
"If we let you tell it," interposed Frank.
The hall soon filled up and the entertainment was started. There was
vocal and instrumental music and recitations. Jennie Smith rendered
"Horatius at the Bridge" with all the energy she was capable of, and the
four chums applauded vigorously.
The wind was increasing in violence, and it rattled the windows so that
at times it interfered with the singing. The janitor went about
tightening the fastenings.
"It's going to be a bad storm," Bart heard the man murmur as he adjusted
the catches. "I hope it doesn't blow some of the chimneys down. One or
two of 'em need pointing up, for the mortar's most out of 'em."
"Is there any danger?" asked Bart in a whisper.
"No, I hope not. The old tower--" but what the janitor would have said
about the tower Bart did not hear, for the man had passed on and there
came the chorus of a song which drowned his words.
But the janitor's prophecy seemed likely to be true. The noise of the
wind could be heard more plainly now. The windows did not rattle so much
after being attended to, but the gale fairly made the school building
vibrate. The old tower the janitor spoke of was a tall, square affair,
at one corner of the building. It was for ornamental purposes only,
though it contained a large clock, and there was a winding stair in it
that gave access to the mechanism.
A white screen was adjusted and moving pictures thrown upon it. The
first series was that of battleships in practice evolutions and as the
smoke rolled from the muzzles of the big guns a man behind the scenes
beat a bass drum, to simulate the distant roar of the ordnance.
The audience watched one great ship as it came into view on the screen.
A broadside was fired, and, as the white smoke rolled out there came a
tremendous concussion that shook the entire school.
"He must have busted the drum that time," thought Bart.
An instant later there came a terrifying crash so near at hand that
everyone knew it was not the sound of the drum, nor their excited
imagination. Nor was it the noise of the wind.
Then, down through one corner of the auditorium, fortunately in a place
where no one was seated, crashing through the ceiling, came a mass of
brick and mortar.
Before the echoes of that had died away there sounded another noise; a
deep, dull sound, and the school again vibrated with the shock. Then the
auditorium was in darkness, and through it came the voice of the janitor
shouting:
"The tower has been wrecked and has fallen!"