The Works Of Winston Churchill / A Linked Index Of The Project Gutenberg Editions

ted, heavy bodies flung themselves along the corridor, the very electrics trembled with the cataclysm. One moment all was qui

epped to his door

football half-back, who was slopping alo

's do

finish up with the fire-hose. Oh, the seven plagues of Egypt aren't in it with what we're going to do; and when we get done if Little Stevie don't let out a string of good, honest cuss-words like a man then I'll eat my hat. Little Stevie's got good stuff in him if it can only be brought out.

s, Courtland sauntered down the corridor to the

acles in biblical-lit. class that morning. Of course an ignorance like that wouldn't go down, and it was best he should learn it at once and get to be a good fellow without loss of time. A little gentle rubbing off of the "mamma's-good-little-boy" veneering would do him good. He wasn't sure but with such a course Marshall might even be eligible for the frat. that year. He sauntered along with his hands in his pockets; a handsome, capable,

he could see Stephen lift his fine head from his book and rise to greet them. There was surprise and a smile of welcome on his face. Courtland thought it almo

ved breathlessly, shedding their mackinaws as the

to get in on this," shouted one as he thrust

rments a kick behind

he stood idly smiling, watching the proceedings. Then the lightning was withheld in the gray eyes, and Marshall seemed to conclude that, after all, the affair must be a huge kind of joke, seeing Courtland was out there. Courtland had been friendly. He must not let his tempe

iful tackler on the football team, stepped up to Stephen and said a few words in a low tone. Courtland could

hut in a thin, firm line, his whole attitude that of the fighter; but he did not speak. He only looked from one to another of the wild young mob, searching for a friend; and, finding none, he stood firm, defying them all. There was something splen

his ugly jaw, came a step nearer and spoke again, a low word w

shot forth and struck the fellow in the jaw, r

not make Stephen utter worse before he was done with him. Pat was the "man" who was in college for football. It took the united efforts of his classmates, his frat

a blow like that in the presence of others and not suffer for it. What had started as a joke had now become real with Pat; and the fren

remote Western farm, matched his mighty, untaught

hless astonishment watched and held in check their own eager

vie! Pray for a miracle!

em to the reckless fray broke forth

boys! Now'

egg or two-the kind

that we wil

t, and was reiterated at interval

ruggling, but bravely facing them all; a disheveled object with rotten eggs streaming from his face and hair, his

the hose!" and more fellows tore off their coats and threw them down at Courtland'

etty torments that were applied amid a round of ringing laughter seemed unlimited; but still he stood, a man among them, his lips closed, a firm set about

r. "Cut it out, fellows! It's no use! You can't set him cussing. He never learned

sporty trousers, socks of brilliant colors-not mates, an old football shoe on one foot, a dancing-pump on the other, a white vest and a swallow-tail put on backward, collar and tie also backward, a large pair of white-cotton gloves commonly used by workmen for rough work-Johnson, who earned his way in college by tending furnaces, furnished these. Stephen bo

in Courtland's ear. And then, half shamedly, they caught him high

d possession. They sang their songs and yelled themselves hoarse. People turned and

y occupancy. Opera-glasses were turned their way, and the girls nudged on

as if he were a baby. They wiped his nose with many a flourishing handkerchief, and pointed out objects of interest about the theater in open derision of his supposed ignorance, to the growing amusement o

ave chosen to see; watched it with a face of growing indignation; a face so speaking in its righteou

and he had the whole football team about him! There was no chance to move. He must stay it through, much as he disliked it. He must stand it in spite of the tumult of rage in his heart. He was not smil

you home," whispered a tormentor. "A single l

halo about his head. They had taken off his hat and he sat with his arm

ss to show you are a man

a sudden open door. The actors paused, grew white, and swerved in their places; then one by one fled out of the s

s conf

ttered, over seats and railing, everywhere, to fire-escapes and doorways, takin

o reach the doorways. The flames were sweeping over the platform now, licking out into the very pit of the theater, and people were terrified. Stephen saw in an instant that the upper door, being farthest away from the center of the fire, was the place of greatest safety. With one frantic leap he gained the aisle, strode up to the doorway, glanced out into the night to take in the situation; cool, calm, quiet, with the still stars overh

here is a way to esc

or, and shouting to her to go quickly down the fire-escape, even while he reached out his other hand to catch a woman, whom willing hands below were lifting up. Men climbed upon the seats and vaulted up when they heard the cry and

muscles, sweat-grimed brow, and worked, his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps as he f

and wa

arshall's mother that he had seen upon the student's desk a few days before, when he had sauntered in to look the new man over. Something unexplained made him step in across the water and debris and pick it up. It was the picture, still unscarred, but with a great streak of rotten egg across the p

nted to see it through, but still he would not quite mix with it. He found a seat where he could watch what was going on without being actually a part of it. If anything should come to the ears of the faculty he wanted to be on the si

nd was almost on the point of going back to

ed to meet the emergency. On the opposite side of the gallery, high

g, crying, lifting piteous hands for assistance. Still Stephen Marshall reached from the gallery a

his post. The minutes seemed interminable hours, and still he worked, with heart pumping painfully, an

f great and awful silence. One of those silences that come eve

le struggling and disappearing into fiery depths below. Just above the pit stood Stephen, lifting aloft a little child with frightened eyes and long streaming curls. He swung him high and turned to stoop agai

e with glory, his hair a halo about his head, and in the next instant, even as his hand was held out to save another, the gallery fell, crashing into the fiery,

lone, above that burning pit where his fellow-student had gone down; nor that he had escaped as by a miracle. There he stood and turned away his face, sick and dizzy with the sight, blinded