MONTY RECEIVES CALLERS
“Hi! There’s someone at a window around there!”
The small junior dashed excitedly into the group at the front of the
burning house, his voice shrill above the noise of the conflagration. A
dozen questions met him. The crowd thronged in his wake.
“He’s up there!” shrilled the boy. “Where the ladder is. Look! See him?”
“There’s two of them!” someone shouted. “Help!”
“I’ve got a fellow here to be carried down,” came a voice from the
window. “He’s unconscious. Send a fireman, will you? It’s getting thick
up here.” The voice sounded faint and hoarse. Those below could now
make out two forms at the open casement, one leaning out over the sill
and the other lying across it, his head hanging limply. Reassurance
came from a dozen throats and several fellows dashed at top speed in
search of assistance. Then a boy pushed his way to the foot of the
ladder.
“Is that you, Monty?” he called anxiously.
“Yes. Don’t come up, Leon. It’s a job for a fireman.”
“Who is he?”
“Standart,” croaked Monty. “I found him――in the hall.”
“Standart!” echoed Leon wonderingly.
Two firemen brushed past him and began the ascent, while the throng
grew. “Easy, Jack! This ladder’s weak from the feelin’. All right,
feller! We’ll take him in a sec! Ready, Jack? Here he comes! Got him?
Lower away. Good work, kid! How’d you happen to be up here? Easy now,
Jack!”
They brought the unconscious form of Alvin Standart cautiously down the
ladder. Willing hands accepted the burden as an anxious silence fell
over the crowd and bore it away. Then one of the firemen sprang up the
ladder again.
“Wait till I give you a hand, lad!” he called to Monty.
“I’m all right, thanks,” was the answer. Monty crawled across the sill,
found the ladder with his foot and began the descent. But he came very
slowly, pausing between each step, and after watching a moment the
fireman, who had paused halfway up, hurried to meet him. “Give me your
feet,” he said. “Hold to the rungs with your hands and lower yourself
slow. Jack, give us a hand up here. This feller’s all in!”
“I can manage,” said Monty faintly. But the fireman paid no heed to
him. Instead, he was plucked bodily in arms and handed from one to the
other and finally set on his feet on the turf.
“Thanks, partner,” he said. “The smoke got in my――――”
Then his legs crumpled up and he fell into Leon’s arms.
Monty awoke some six hours later amidst strange surroundings. A boy
whom he knew only by sight was standing across the room in front of a
chiffonier. There was a second bed near by. The pictures on the gray
paper were utterly unfamiliar.
Monty, conscious of being very tired and very sore as to throat and
lungs, tried to puzzle things out. Before he had succeeded, however,
the boy at the chiffonier caught his bewildered look in the mirror and
turned.
“Hello!” he greeted. “Awake, Crail?”
“Yes, I――guess so.” Monty’s voice was hoarse and croaky and it hurt him
to speak. “Where am I? Whose room is this?”
“Mine and Sawyer’s. I bunked with Sawyer after the fire. How are you
feeling?”
But Monty forgot to reply, for the word “fire” had supplied the missing
clue to memory. For a minute he was silent, going over the events of
early morning. At last: “What time is it?” he asked.
“Ten of nine.”
“Oh! What――where――how’s Standart?”
“He’s over in Manning, in the infirmary. He’s all right, I guess.
Swallowed a lot of smoke, I heard, and will be laid up for a few days,
but I guess he will back out all right. Lucky you found him, Crail! It
was a close squeak for him!”
“Yes.” Monty closed his eyes a moment, opened them again and asked:
“Have I had any breakfast?” But there was no answer and he discovered
that the boy whose bed he was occupying had meanly taken advantage of
his momentary lapse from consciousness to sneak out. Monty reflected
that a cup of coffee would be pretty fine, and he considered getting up
and finding one. But somehow, while he was making up his mind to the
necessary exertion, he fell asleep again.
When he awoke the next time the breakfast was there and a maid was
summoning his attention to the fact. It wasn’t a very hearty meal, but
it did him a lot of good. Still later the doctor came in and asked him
a number of questions and felt his pulse and told him to stay in bed
until the next day. He left some tablets which Monty was instructed to
dissolve in his mouth and went his way. At various times other persons
put their heads in at the door or entered for awhile; Mrs. Fair, and
Brill, the owner of the bed, and Joe Mullins and four or five of the
Morris House fellows. And finally Leon came and perched himself on the
edge of the bed and talked in whispers until Monty begged him to “cut
out the bedside manner.”
“What happened, anyway?” demanded Monty. “Did the house burn up
entirely?”
“No, they saved about half of it. Your room and the rooms on that
side are all right, except that they’re horribly messy and smelly. By
the way, we found your suitcase and a lot of things you threw out and
they’re downstairs. They say they’re going to pull Morris down entirely
and put up a brick dormitory there big enough to hold fifty fellows.
They had a wild time finding places to put the crowd. Some of them
slept in the gym. Standart’s in the infirmary with his insides scorched
and feeling pretty mean, I reckon. I dare say you know that you’re a
sort of hero today, Monty.”
“Am I? No, I didn’t know it. I don’t feel heroic,” he added croakingly.
“Didn’t do anything heroic, either. I went back up there to get some
of my things out and only came across Standart by accident. Guess he’d
fiddled around too long and then had a fright when he tried to get
out. Or else the smoke was too much for him. Anyway, he wasn’t saying
anything when I found him. What are you grinning at?”
“I was just thinking that it was sort of funny,” laughed Leon. “You
were going to knock him into a cocked hat, and instead of that you
saved his silly life.”
“Couldn’t do anything else, could I?” growled Monty. “Couldn’t leave
him there, naturally. Is he bad?”
“N-no, he will be all right in a few days, they say. Has a bit of fever
now. Reckon he was scared more than he was hurt. Say, you’re coming
in with Seymour and me tomorrow. I saw Rumford about it. Lots of the
fellows are doubling up.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Monty vaguely. “I’m kind of confused. I was
going to back-trail, today, wasn’t I?”
“No, you just thought you were,” replied Leon carelessly. “Fate had a
different plan, you see.”
“Fate, eh?” Monty considered that. “Well, I don’t know. I suppose I
might as well stick it out now, though. My things are all sprinkled
around the landscape, I guess. Did the other fellows save anything?”
“Some of them. Ordway told me to tell you he was sorry and that you
were to buck up, whatever he meant. They say Manson’s going back on the
team, by the way.”
“He is? I wish he wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because――oh, just because. He’s not fit to play. I suppose every one
knows about me?”
“Sure! And everyone’s talking about it. Didn’t I tell you you were a
hero?”
“Oh, that! I meant about being on probation.”
Leon shook his head slowly. “I don’t think anyone knows it unless
you’ve told.”
“Oh, well――” Monty stared thoughtfully at the window. “I suppose a
fellow can be on pro. and still survive, eh? Say, I’ve been thinking of
something, Leon.”
“Honest? Did the doctor say you might?”
“I’ve been thinking that it would be――well, sort of fun to give the
school a new dormitory. I can afford to, you know. Of course, I
wouldn’t do it myself. I mean it would be my money, but I’d have Jasper
attend to it. I suppose it would look silly if I did it myself.”
“Why would it? I think it would be great, Monty! You could have them
call it Crail Hall. Do you really mean it?”
“Crail Hall nothing! It would be Morris, of course. I guess if they got
busy they could have it ready for next fall, eh? Sure, I mean it, if
they’ll let me.”
“Oh, they’ll let you, all right,” laughed Leon. “I reckon if you put
it up to Charley he would fall on your neck. Maybe he’d let you off
probation, too!”
“Then I won’t say anything about it,” said Monty, with a scowl. “I
don’t want to buy myself off, you silly ass.”
“Well, don’t get mad about it. Say, Mr. Rumford’s going to come over to
see you this afternoon. If I were you I’d be nice and polite to him,
Monty. He’s not a bad sort――――”
“He needn’t,” said Monty grumpily. “Going?”
“Got to. Jimmy and Dud will be around some time. I’ll drop in again
after last hour, too. They say you’ve got to stay here until tomorrow.
Then you’re coming over to Trow. I’m awfully glad, Monty.”
“It’s decent of you and Granger,” Monty grinned. “I won’t call him a
spider again.”
“He wouldn’t mind,” replied Leon. “Besides, he’s caught his fly now.”
“Fly?” questioned Monty.
“You,” laughed Leon from the door. “So long!”
After a meager dinner Monty secured reading matter, propped the pillows
behind him and strove to make the best of his incarceration. In the
middle of the first story, however, Mr. Rumford was announced. Monty
never would tell what transpired at that interview and so it would
hardly be fair for me to tell, but the results of it were no secret.
When Leon arrived about four Monty triumphantly informed him that
he was not on probation, after all, that “Old Whiskers” was “a good
Indian,” and no one need say otherwise in his, Monty’s, hearing, and
that everything was fine and dandy. “And,” added Monty, “it’s all right
about the dormitory. You mustn’t say anything about it to anyone,
though, because it’s a secret. It’s to be called Morris Hall and no
one is to know that I had anything to do with it. Mr. Rumford is going
to talk to Charley about it right away, but he says he is sure the
Whatyoucallthems――trustees――will be tickled to death.”
“Did ‘Jimmy’ say that?” asked Leon innocently.
“Well, that was the idea of it. Say, Leon, do you suppose Bonner will
let me play Saturday? I’m all right, you know.”
“I don’t see why not. You don’t have to give the signals.”
“What has that got to do with it?”
“Nothing, only if you did no one could hear them,” chuckled Leon. “You
talk like a rusty windmill.”
“So would you if all the skin was off your throat. Where are those
tablet things? Don’t you think I talk better than I did this morning?”
“No, I don’t,” replied Leon flatly. “And if you take my advice you’ll
do less of it.”
“I don’t have to take your advice, though, partner. I didn’t do much
talking when Jimmy and Dud were here, anyway. Jimmy did it all. He had
a fool story about the fellows finding my underwear all around the shop
and keeping it as souvenirs. I wish I could see Mr. Bonner.”
“Why don’t you write him a note?” suggested Leon.
“Guess I will. Find me a piece of paper and a pen, will you? Isn’t
there some on the table? Thanks.” Monty propped himself higher and set
to work. It took some time to compose the four lines that were finally
evolved, and when he folded the sheet and put it in an envelope he
heaved a sigh of relief. “There,” he said, “that ought to fetch him.
Will you post it for me, Leon? I haven’t a stamp, but there’s some
money somewhere if you can find it.”
“I’ll do better than post it,” said Leon. “I’ll hand it to him at
supper. Now stop talking and rest up. Better try to sleep about twelve
hours tonight, old chap.”
“I’m all right. You won’t forget the note, will you? Manson oughtn’t to
play Saturday, you know.”
“But Monty Crail ought?” laughed Leon. “All right. Don’t worry. I’ll
see that the precious note gets to Bonner by six o’clock.”
And Leon must have kept his promise, for at a little before seven the
coach was talking to Monty across a devastated supper tray.