The boys of Columbia High in track athletics

by Graham B. Forbes

Down each stairway streamed the students. They had been appalled at first, but some of the teachers, keeping their heads, had circulated the story that it must be all a part of the principal’s plan to get them accustomed to the idea of a fire; and that the smoke, as well as Soggy’s wild behavior, was “make-believe.”

This was intended as a means to quiet the excited students; for the freshman class was the first to come forth, with the sophomores next; then the juniors, older and more seasoned; and the seniors last of all.

By the time Frank’s class issued forth, and began to hasten down the narrow stairways, the sight was a thrilling one. Smoke was now coming out of the basement windows, and the door, in great volume, showing that the fire must have found a good draught there among the kindling and coal left over from the preceding winter.

It was too bad, in one sense, that the seniors had to come out last; for among the older boys of this class, to graduate in June of this year, a fire-fighting organization had been built up. And even now as they came forth, a number of the lads carried buckets, while several had strapped on their backs chemical fire extinguishers; and others held hand grenades, meant to be hurled into the midst of a conflagration, which they were supposed to help put out by the liquid and gases set free by the bursting of the receptacle.

Frank Allen had been placed in command of this detachment of fire-fighters; for well did Professor Parke know the ability of the boy for undertaking any work of this kind.

When Frank hastened down the iron stairway he was figuring just how they should go about it in order to get the better of those fierce flames, which everyone now knew must be gaining more power each minute.

Professor Parke was directing the dismissal of the scholars, who were told to keep at least at the other end of the campus; for the firemen of Columbia might be expected to respond speedily to the alarm bell that was now beginning to sound its thrilling and brazen notes; and they would want all the space available in order to work.

Soggy, the janitor, was quite beside himself. Twice he had acted as though about to dash madly into the smoke-filled cellar, but was restrained by some of the teachers.

Frank gave one last look around, in order to make sure that his little company was at his back. He saw that some of the boys had white faces, but from the way they set their teeth together, it was evident that they meant to stand by him, no matter what happened. And that fact gave him courage; for had the boys weakened just then, Frank could have done nothing alone.

“It’s mostly smoke up to now, fellows!” he cried, as they drew nearer the entrance to the cellars. “And we’ve just got to get in there, and put it out. Don’t you smell pine wood smouldering? Well, that shows where the fire is, over in the bin where Soggy keeps the kindling. We all ought to know every inch of this cellar, because we’ve played in here every wet recess. Ready to follow me, now?”