The fire was soon under control. Mrs. Baird called the stablemen, and together with the fire extinguishers it was over almost at once. It had started by two wires crossing and, fortunately, on the bridge. It might easily have spread to both buildings had it not been for Polly’s timely warning. So quietly and quickly had it happened that the girls in the gym knew nothing of it.
When Polly next opened her eyes, Mrs. Baird and Miss King were standing on either side of her bed.
“Is it out?” she asked, turning to Mrs. Baird.
“Yes, dear, it is; thanks to you and your splendid courage,” Mrs. Baird replied, taking her hand in hers and patting it.
“And the game?” demanded Polly, now thoroughly conscious. “Is it over?”
A prolonged shout from the gym answered her question.
“It must be just over,” explained Miss King, “and that shout sounds as if we had won. How is the ankle, dear? Very painful?”
“Yes, it is kind of sore,” Polly admitted, “but I want to know the score,” she insisted.
Mrs. Baird gave her hand a tight squeeze and smiled down at her as she answered:
“I’ll go this minute and find out; they are probably waiting for me to present the cup. I will send you the score at once,” she promised as she left the room.