"Oh, George, thank God, you have again escaped! This is an earthquake, isn't it?"
"It must be, and I must take you out to some open space at once. Jube, shut up, and keep your senses. If you don't help me I'll break your bones."
Groping about he found a match and lighted a candle.
"Oh, George, you are hurt. Your face is covered with blood!" cried Mr.
Houghton.
"Slight cuts only. Come, father, there may be another shock, and it will not be safe to dress you here. Let me wrap you in blankets, and then Jube and I will carry you to Marion Square. I will come back for your clothes."
This they proceeded to do, Mr. Houghton meanwhile protesting, "No, George, you shall not come back." Then he asked a moment or two later, "Why do you take me out at the side door?"
"It will be safer," George replied, not wishing to explain that the pillared and massive portico was in ruins.
As they passed the front of the house, however, Jube groaned, "Oh, Lawd! de porch dun smashed!"
"This is awful, my boy!" ejaculated Mr. Houghton. "Oh, this dreadful city! this dreadful city!"
"The worst is over, I think. Brace up, Jube. If you are so anxious to save your life, step lively."