IV

Grafton could scarcely believe it at first. When he discovered that Jim

Marble really meant that he was to go to the second team his anger almost

got the better of him, and the glance he turned from Jim to Kenneth held

nothing of affection. But he took his place at right guard on the second

and, although with ill grace, played the position while practice lasted.

Kenneth took pains to keep away from him, since there was no telling what

tricks he might be up to. The first team put it all over the second that

day and Jim Marble was smiling when time was called and the panting players

tumbled downstairs to the showers. On Friday practice was short. After it

was over Kenneth stopped at the library on his way back to Lower House.

When he opened the door of Number 12 he found Joe with his books spread

out, studying.

"Hello, where have you been?" asked Joe. "Graft was in here a minute ago

looking for you. Said if you came in before dinner to ask you to go up to

his room a minute. Of course," said Joe, grinning, "he may intend to throw

you out of the window or give you poison, but he talked sweetly enough.

Still, maybe you'd better stay away; perhaps he's just looking for a chance

to quarrel."

Kenneth thought a minute. Then he turned toward the door.

"Going?" asked Joe.

"Yes."

"Well, if you're not back by six I'll head a rescue party."

Grafton Hyde roomed by himself on the third floor. His two rooms, on the

corner of the building, were somewhat elaborately furnished, as befitted

the apartments of "the richest fellow in school." He had chosen the third

floor because he was under surveillance less strict than were the first and

second floor boys. The teacher on the third floor was Mr. Whipple and, as

his rooms were at the other end of the hall and as he paid little attention

at best to his charges, Grafton did about as he pleased. To-night there was

no light shining through the transom when Kenneth reached Number 21 and he

decided that Grafton was out. But he would make sure and so knocked at the

door. To his surprise he was told to come in. As he opened the door a chill

draft swept by him, a draft at once redolent of snow and of cigarette

smoke. The room was in complete darkness, but a form was outlined against

one of the windows, the lower sash of which was fully raised, and a tiny

red spark glowed there. Kenneth paused on the threshold.

"Who is it?" asked Grafton's voice.

"Garwood," was the reply. "Joe said you wanted me to look you up."

The spark suddenly dropped out of sight, evidently tossed through the open

window.

"Oh," said Grafton with a trace of embarrassment. "Er--wait a moment and

I'll light up."

"Don't bother," said Kenneth. "I can't stay but a minute. I just thought

I'd see what you wanted."

"Well, you'll find a chair there by the table," said Grafton, sinking back

on the window seat. "Much obliged to you for coming up."

There was a silence during which Kenneth found the chair and Grafton pulled

down the window. Then,

"Look here, Garwood," said Grafton, "you've got my place on the team, I

don't say you didn't get it fair and square, because you did. But I want

it. You know me pretty well and I guess you know I generally get what I

want. You're a pretty good sort, and you're a friend of Joe's, and I like

Joe, but I might make it mighty uncomfortable for you if I wanted to, which

I don't. I'll tell you what I'll do, Garwood. You get yourself back on the

second team and I'll make it right with you. If you need a little money--"

"Is that all?" asked Kenneth, rising.

"Hold on! Don't get waxy! Wait till I explain. I'll give you twenty-five

dollars, Garwood. You can do a whole lot with twenty-five dollars. And

that's a mighty generous offer. All you've got to do is to play off for a

couple of days. Tomorrow you could be kind of sick and not able to play. No

one would think anything about it, and you can bet I wouldn't breathe a

word of it. What do you say?"

"I say you're a confounded cad!" cried Kenneth hotly.

"Oh, you do, eh? I haven't offered enough, I suppose!" sneered Grafton. "I

might have known that a fellow who would only give a dollar to the teams

would be a hard bargainer! Well, I'm not stingy; I'll call it thirty. Now,

what do you say?"

"When you get your place back it'll be by some other means than buying it,"

said Kenneth contemptuously. He turned toward the door. "You haven't got

enough money to buy everything, you see; and--"

There was a sharp knock on the door.

"If you say anything about this," whispered Grafton hoarsely, "I'll--I'll--

Come in!"

"Who is here?" asked Mr. Whipple's voice as the door swung open.

"I, sir, and Garwood," answered Grafton.

"Ah! Garwood! And which one of you, may I ask, has been smoking

cigarettes?"

There was a moment's silence. Then,

"Nobody in here, sir," answered Grafton.

"That will do, Hyde. Don't attempt to shield him," said Mr. Whipple coldly.

"Light the gas, please."

Grafton slid off the window seat and groped toward where Kenneth was

standing.

"Yes, sir," he said, "as soon as I can find a match." He brushed heavily

against Kenneth.

"I beg your pardon, Garwood. I'm all turned around. Where--? Oh, here they

are." A match flared and Grafton lighted the droplight. Mr. Whipple turned

to Kenneth, a triumphant smile on his thin features.

"Well, what have you to say?" he asked.

"About what, sir!" inquired Kenneth.

"About smoking. You deny it, then."

"Yes."

"Ah! And what about this!" Mr. Whipple opened his hand and displayed a

portion of a cigarette with charred end. "You should be more careful where

you throw them, Garwood. This came from the window just as I was passing

below."

"It's not mine," was the answer.

"Oh, then it was you, Hyde?"

Grafton smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"If you can find any cigarettes in my room, sir, you--"

"Pshaw! What's the use in pretending?" interrupted the instructor, viewing

Kenneth balefully. "I fancy I know where to look for cigarettes, eh,

Garwood? You have no objection to emptying your pockets for me?"

"None at all, Mr. Whipple."

"Then, may I suggest that you do so?"

Kenneth dove into one pocket and brought out a handkerchief and a small

piece of pencil, into the other and--

"Ah!" said Mr. Whipple triumphantly.

In Kenneth's hand lay a piece of folded paper, a skate strap and--a box of

cigarettes! He stared at the latter bewilderedly for a moment. Then he

glanced sharply at Grafton. That youth regarded him commiseratingly and

slowly shook his head.

"I'll take those, if you please," said Mr. Whipple. Kenneth handed them

over.

"I never saw them before," he said simply.

"Oh, of course not," jeered the instructor. "And the room rank with

cigarette smoke! That's a pretty tall story, I think, Garwood. You told me

once that I would never catch you smoking cigarettes. You see you were a

trifle mistaken. You may go to your room."

"I wasn't smoking cigarettes," protested Kenneth. "I never saw that box

before in my life. If Hyde won't tell, I will. I came up here and found

him--"

He stopped. What was the use? Telling on another fellow was mean work, and,

besides, Mr. Whipple wouldn't believe him. He had no proof to offer and all

the evidence was against him. He turned to the door. On the threshold he

looked back at Grafton.

"You sneak!" he said softly.

Then, with the angry tears blinding his eyes, he hurried down to his room

to unburden his heart to Joe Brewster.

Joe was wildly indignant and was all for dashing upstairs and "knocking the

spots out of Graft!" But Kenneth refused his consent to such a procedure.

"I'll tell them the truth when they call me up," he said. "If they don't

believe me they needn't."

Well, they didn't. Kenneth refused to incriminate Grafton and as all the

evidence was strongly against him he was held guilty. The verdict was

"suspension" as soon as Kenneth's parents could be communicated with.

Grafton denied having smoked with Kenneth and got off with a lecture for

permitting an infraction of the rules in his study. Joe stormed and

sputtered, but as Kenneth had bound him to secrecy he could do no more.

That night Upper and Lower met in the second basket-ball game and Grafton

Hyde played right guard on the Lower House team. Fate was kind to the Beds.

Knox, Upper's crack right forward, was out of the game with a twisted ankle

and when the last whistle blew the score board declared Lower House the

winner by a score of 12 to 9. And Lower House tramped through the snow,

around and around the campus, and made night hideous with songs and cheers

until threatened by the faculty with dire punishment if they did not at

once retire to their rooms. And up in Number 12 Kenneth, feeling terribly

out of it all, heard and was glad of the victory.

Sunday afternoon he spent in packing his trunk, for, in spite of Joe's

pleadings, he was determined not to return to Hilltop when his term of

suspension was over. He expected to hear from his father in the morning, in

which case he would take the noon train to New York on the first stage of

his journey.

That night they sat up late, since it was to be their last evening

together, and Joe was very miserable. He begged Kenneth to go to Dr.

Randall and tell just what had occurred. But Kenneth shook his head.

"He wouldn't believe me if I did," he said. "And, anyhow, what's the use of

staying while Whipple's here? He'd get me fired sooner or later. No, the

best way to do is to quit now. I'm sorry, Joe; you and I were getting on

together pretty well, weren't we?"

"Yes," answered Joe sadly. And then he became reminiscent and asked whether

Kenneth remembered the way they kicked the furniture around that first

evening and how Kenneth had joshed Grafton Hyde.

When they at last went to bed Kenneth found himself unable to sleep. Eleven

o'clock struck on the town clock. From across the room came Joe's regular

breathing and Kenneth, punching his pillow into a new shape, envied him.

For a half hour longer he tossed and turned, and then slumber came to him,

yet so fitfully that he was wide awake and out of bed the instant that that

first shrill cry of "_Fire!_" sounded in the corridor.

V

Kenneth's first act after hearing the alarm was to awake Joe, This he did

by the simple expedient of yanking the bedclothes away from him and yelling

"Fire!" at the top of his lungs. Then, stumbling over the chairs, he groped

his way to the hall door and opened it. The corridor was already filled

with excitement and confusion. Of the eighteen boys who roomed on that

floor fully half were in evidence, standing dazedly about in pyjamas or

night shirts and shouting useless questions and absurd answers. Simms, who

lived at the far end of the corridor, emerged from his room dragging a

steamer trunk after him. Instantly the scantily clad youths dashed into

their rooms intent on rescuing their belongings. Joe joined Kenneth at the

door.

"Where's the fire?" he gasped.

"I don't know," answered Kenneth, "but I can smell it. Get something on;

I'm going to. Has anyone given the alarm?" he asked, as Simms hurried back

toward his study.

"Yes! No! I don't know! Everything's on fire upstairs! You'd better get

your things out!"

"Somebody ought to give the alarm," said Kenneth. "Who's seen Mr. Bronson?"

But none had time to answer him. Kenneth scooted down the hall and thumped

at the instructor's door. There was no answer and Kenneth unceremoniously

shoved it open. The study was in darkness.

"_Mr. Bronson!_" he cried. "_Mr. Bronson!_"

There was no reply, and Kenneth recollected that very frequently Mr.

Bronson spent Sunday night at his home. He hurried back to his own room and

found Joe throwing their belongings out of the windows. At that moment the

bell on School Hall began to clang wildly and a second afterwards the alarm

was taken up by the fire bell in the village, a mile away.

Kenneth pulled on his trousers and shoes, looked for a coat only to find

that Joe had thrown all the coats out of the windows, and went back to the

corridor. All up and down it boys were staggering along with trunks and

bags, while from the western end the smoke was volleying forth from Number

19 in great billowy clouds. From the floor above raced fellows with suit

cases and small trunks, shouting and laughing in the excitement of the

moment.

One of the older boys, Harris by name, came galloping upstairs with a fire

extinguisher, followed by a crowd of partly dressed fellows from Upper

House. But the smoke which filled the end of the corridor drove them back

and the stream from the extinguisher wasted itself against the fast

yellowing plaster of the wall. The building was rapidly becoming

uninhabitable and, calling Joe from the study, where he was vainly trying

to get the study table through the casement, Kenneth made for the stairs.

The light at the far end of the corridor shone red and murky through the

dense clouds of smoke.

"All out of the building!" cried a voice from below, and the half dozen

adventurous spirits remaining in the second floor corridor started down the

stairs.

"Do you know how it began?" asked Joe of a boy beside him.

"Yes," was the reply. "King, in 19, was reading in bed with a lamp he has,

and he went to sleep and upset it somehow. He got burned, they say."

"Serves him right," muttered some one. Kenneth glanced around and found

Grafton Hyde beside him.

"Hello," said Kenneth.

"Hello," answered Grafton. "Did you save anything?"

"Yes, I guess so," Kenneth replied. "Did you?"

For the moment animosities were forgotten, wiped out of existence by the

calamity.

"Not much," said Grafton. "But I don't care. I tried to get my trunk down

but the smoke was fierce and the end of the building was all in flames. So

I lit out."

The lower hall was crowded with boys. Dr. Randall, tall and gaunt in a red

flowered dressing gown, and several of the instructors were doing their

best to clear the building.

"All out, boys!" called the doctor. "It isn't safe here now! The firemen

will be here in a minute and you'll only be in the way! I want you all to

go over to Upper House!"

"Hello!" said Kenneth. "What's the matter with you, Jasper?"

Jasper Hendricks, the youngest boy in school, was crouched in a dim corner

of the hall, sobbing and shaking as though his heart was broken.

"What's up?" asked Grafton.

"Don't know. Here's young Jasper crying like a good one. What's the

trouble, Jasper? Did you get hurt?"

But the boy apparently didn't even hear them.

"Lost his things, probably," suggested Grafton, "and feels it. Never mind,

kid? you'll get some more."

"I want every boy out of the building!" cried the doctor. But his voice was

almost drowned in the babel of cries and shouts and laughter.

"Come on, Jasper," said Kenneth, trying to raise him to his feet. "We've

got to get out."

For the first time he caught a glimpse of the boy's face. It was white and

drawn and horror stricken.

"What's the matter?" cried Kenneth in alarm. Young Hendrick's lips moved

but Kenneth could not distinguish the whispered words.

"Eh? What's that? Speak louder! You're all right now! Don't be scared! What

is it?" And Kenneth bent his head as the younger boy clung to him

convulsively.

"_Mister Whipple!_"

Kenneth barely caught the whispered words.

"Mr. Whipple," he muttered. "What does he mean?" He pulled the lad's body

around so that he could see his face in the smoke-dimmed light. "What about

him, Jasper? He's safe, isn't he?"

The white face shook from side to side.

"What does he say?" cried Grafton. "Whipple? Isn't he down? Where is he?"

"He must be--!"

Kenneth paused, his own face paling, and looked fearsomely toward the

stairs down which the gray-brown smoke was floating wraithlike. Then his

eyes met Grafton's and he read his own horror reflected there.

"Jasper's room is next to Mr. Whipple's," said Grafton hoarsely. "He must

have seen something! _Jasper, is Mr. Whipple up there now?"_

The lad's head nodded weakly. Then he broke again into great dry sobs that

shook him from head to foot. Kenneth seized him beneath the shoulders and

dragged him a few yards nearer the door. There he put him down.

"Don't cry, Jasper," he whispered kindly. "It's all right; we'll save him!"

For an instant he looked about him. Through the doors the boys were pushing

their way outward, protesting, laughing, excitedly.

Of the faculty Dr. Randall alone was in sight. One other instant Kenneth

hesitated. Then with a bound he was halfway up the first flight.

"Who's that going up there?" cried the doctor. "Here, come back instantly!"

But Kenneth did not hear, or, hearing, paid no heed. He was at the second

floor, the evil-smelling smoke thick about him, blinding his eyes and

smarting his throat. Above him was a strange lurid glare and the roaring of

the flames. For a moment his heart failed him and he leaned weak and

panting against the banister. Then a voice sounded in his ears.

"It's no use, Garwood," cried Grafton. "We can't get up there."

"We'll try," was the answer.

Bending low, his sleeve over his mouth, Kenneth rushed the next flight.

Grafton was at his heels. At the top Kenneth crouched against the last step

and squinted painfully down the corridor in the direction of Mr. Whipple's

room and the flames. The heat was stifling and the smoke rolled toward them

in great red waves. Grafton, choking, coughing, crouched at Kenneth's side.

"We can't reach him," he muttered. "The fire has cut him off."

It seemed true. Mr. Whipple's room was at the far end and between his door

and the stairway the flames were rioting wildly, licking up the woodwork

and playing over the lathes from which the plaster was crumbling away.

Kenneth's heart sank and for an instant he thought he was going to faint.

Everything grew black before him and his head settled down on his

outstretched arm. Then Grafton was shaking him by the shoulder and his

senses returned.

"Come on!" cried Grafton. "Let's get out of this while we can! We'll be

burned alive in a minute!" There was panic in his voice and he tugged

nervously at Kenneth's arm.

At that moment a great expanse of plaster fell from the ceiling some thirty

feet away and the flames glared luridly through the corridor, making

everything for a brief moment as light as day. From below came calls, but

Kenneth did not hear them.

"Look!" he cried, seizing Grafton's arm. "_On the floor! Do you see?_"

"Yes," shouted Grafton. "It's Mr. Whipple! Can we get him?"

"I'm going to try," was the calm reply. "Will you come with me?"

For a moment the two boys looked into each other's eyes, squinting

painfully in the acrid smoke. The flames crackled and roared in their ears.

The strained, terror-stricken look passed from Grafton's face. His eyes

lighted and he even smiled a little.

"Come on," he said simply.

"Wait!" Kenneth leaned down so that his face was against the spindles and

took a deep breath. There was a current of clearer air arising from the

well and, although it smarted in his lungs, it gave him relief. Grafton

followed his example. Then, for they realized that there was no time to

lose, with one accord they rushed, stooping, down the corridor into the

face of the flames.

Mr. Whipple lay stretched face downward on the floor where he had fallen

when overcome by the smoke and, as is more than likely, his terror. He was

in his night clothes and one hand grasped a small satchel. Behind him the

floor was afire scarcely a yard away. The thirty feet from the stairs to

where he lay seemed as many yards to the rescuers, and the heat grew

fiercer at every step. But they gained the goal, fighting for breath,

bending their heads against the savage onslaughts of the flames, and seized

the instructor's arms. Whether he was alive there was no time to ascertain.

There was time for nothing save to strive to drag him toward the stairway.

With tightly closed eyes, from which the smarting tears rolled down their

faces, and sobbing breaths, they struggled back.

But if it had been hard going it was trebly hard returning. The instructor

was not a large man nor a heavy one, but now he seemed to weigh tons. Their

feet slipped on the plaster-sprinkled boards and their hearts hammered in

their throats. Ten feet they made; and then, as though angry at being

deprived of their prey, the flames burst with a sudden roar through the

melting partition a few feet behind them and strove to conquer them with a

scorching breath. Kenneth staggered to his knees under its fury and Grafton

gave a cry of anguish and despair. But the fiery wave receded and they

struggled desperately on, fighting now for their own lives as well as for

that of the instructor.

Ten feet more and the worst was passed. A frenzied rush for the stairway

and safety was in sight. Half falling, half stumbling, they went down the

first few steps to the landing at the turn, Mr. Whipple's inert body

thumping along between them. There, with faces held close to the boards,

they lay drinking in grateful breaths of the smoke-poisoned air, which,

after what they had been inhaling, was fresh and sweet.

Then, above the booming of the fire, voices reached them, hoarse, anxious

voices, and white faces peered up at them through the smoke from the

corridor below.

"All right!" called Kenneth, but, to his surprise, his words were only

hoarse whispers. Struggling to his knees, he seized Mr. Whipple's arm and

strove to go on. But Grafton offered no assistance. He lay motionless where

he had thrown himself on the landing.

"Come on!" croaked Kenneth impatiently, and tugged at his double burden.

Then the crimson light went suddenly out and he subsided limply against the

banisters just as the rescuers dashed up to them.

When Kenneth came to a few minutes later he was being carried across the

campus. Near at hand a fire engine throbbed and roared, sending showers of

sparks into the winter darkness. Behind him a red glare threw long moving

shadows across the grass. In his ears were shouts and commands and a shrill

whistling. Then he lost consciousness again.