Here and there a frightened woman, a hysterical girl, or a timid man made a movement toward getting out, but the majority had come to a halt and turned to look at the young bugler.
By this time those in charge of the entertainment were on the stage calling reassuringly to the people. The red fire died out and the smoke drifted away.
“Take your seats,” said the manager, and nearly every one did so.
“There was an unfortunate mistake,” the manager went on. “Luckily no one was hurt. I regret very much that it has happened. I think it will be best to close the entertainment. It was almost over when the panic started.”
“I want to add but that for the presence of mind of this young man,” and he looked at Ned, who tried to hide down in his seat, “there might have been a terrible calamity. By his quickness he prevented the panic from continuing. He deserves the thanks of every one here.”
“And he’ll get ’em, too,” called someone. “Three cheers for Ned Wilding!”
They were given with a fervor that made the chandeliers rattle.
“Good for you, old chap!” exclaimed Bart, clapping Ned on the back, while the other chums began shaking his hands. Ned was blushing like a girl, and was soon the center of an admiring throng. He tried to get away but they would not let him. Every one wanted to shake hands with him.
The audience was now laughing and talking where, but a few minutes before, it had been a maddened, unreasoning throng; and shortly began dispersing, and soon there remained only a few, including those in charge of the entertainment. Miss Mapes was among them.
“I’m sure it was the luckiest thing in the world that you boys came,” she said to the chums. “What would have happened if Ned hadn’t played that cornet?”