Fred sat upright.
For a second he believed his dream had been so vivid that it was haunting him still; for he fancied that he could hear the rumbling of engines over the granite blocks; and surely that was a wild alarm of fire that broke upon his hearing.
Then like a flash it came to Fred that there was nothing of a dream about it—some one was shrieking the startling word "fire!" at the top of his voice; and even in that dreadful moment the aroused sleeper believed he could distinguish the well known tones of Bradley Morton.
CHAPTER VII
ICE COLD WATERS
"Fire! Fire! Wake up, everybody! Help! Help!"
So Brad was shouting at the top of his lusty young voice. Such an upheaval as his thrilling cries brought about in the three tents! Every one of the sixteen inmates scrambled out from under the blanket in which he had been so snugly rolled.
They came flocking out just as they were, some in pajamas, others in all sorts of apparel suited to sleeping; and not a few about half disrobed, they having failed to provide for the night time.
Nobody needed to ask any questions, because they had eyes, and could easily see what was the matter.