The top of the tree had come straight through the big window of the apartment, crashing down on a bureau and a writing-desk, smashing both flat. Some branches of the tree rested on the side of the bed, pinning Job Haskers against the wall, as if in a cage.
“Help me! Save me!” spluttered the terror-stricken teacher.—Page 287.
“Help me! Save me!” spluttered the terror-stricken teacher. “I am being crushed to death!”
“All hands to the tree!” shouted Mr. Dale, and showed what he meant. Boys and men took hold of the tree-branches and pulled them to one side.
“Are you much hurt, Mr. Haskers?” asked Doctor Clay, kindly.
“I—I don’t know, I think so!” gasped the teacher. His face was white and he was shivering from fright.
“Can’t you crawl under the branches?” asked Mr. Dale. “Here, come this way.”
He showed how it could be done, and trembling from head to feet, the scared teacher got out from under the tree-top. His face and one shoulder were scratched, but otherwise he appeared to be unhurt. But all were forced to acknowledge that he had had a narrow escape.