“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.