Had any of them been in the living room they would probably have been seriously injured. The weight of the fallen chimney had broken in the roof and stones were still crashing through to the floor below. The fireplace was wrecked.
At last the uproar died away. Snow was sifting through the hole in the roof, and when Frank peeped through the doorway he could see the jagged fragments of the chimney rising above the gap.
“I guess it’s all over now,” he said calmly.
Chet restrained him.
“You’re not going in there?” he said. “Frank, don’t be foolish! You’ll be killed!”
“There won’t be any more falling stones. The rest of the chimney is pretty firm. I’m anxious to investigate. Where’s that flashlight?”
“I’m coming, too,” declared Joe, realizing Frank’s motive. “This may be a lucky thing for all of us.”
“Lucky?” groaned Biff. “Do you call it lucky to have the chimney fall in and wreck the place?”
“We’ll see.”
Frank picked up the flashlight. He looked out into the living room again. It was a scene of desolation. Great stones, and quantities of débris, dust, and mortar lay all about. Then, followed by Joe, he left the kitchen and picked his way among the rubbish over to the fireplace.