An instant later there came a terrifying crash so near at hand that everyone knew it was not the sound of the drum, nor their excited imagination. Nor was it the noise of the wind.
Then, down through one corner of the auditorium, fortunately in a place where no one was seated, crashing through the ceiling, came a mass of brick and mortar.
Before the echoes of that had died away there sounded another noise; a deep, dull sound, and the school again vibrated with the shock. Then the auditorium was in darkness, and through it came the voice of the janitor shouting:
“The tower has been wrecked and has fallen!”
CHAPTER XI
NED GETS A LETTER
For an instant silence followed the startling announcement, silence in which the wind seemed to join, for there came a lull in the gale. Then, as the gale resumed its furious blowing, the audience became fear-crazed and a mad rush ensued.
Women and girls were screaming at the tops of their voices. Men were shouting to one another to know what had happened. Boys were darting here and there seeking a means of escape from what they believed would prove a death-trap. The noise of bricks clattering to the floor could be heard and the school-house seemed, at least to the excited imaginations of some, to be on the point of toppling down.