The fire, which had been discovered soon after it broke out, could not stand the combined assault of the water and chemicals, and, soon after the arrival of the student brigade, it was practically extinguished. It had started from an overheated flue, and had burned quite a hole in the floor, but, aside from that damage, the destruction of some pews, cushions and hymn books, the loss was comparatively slight. The valuable stained glass windows had not been harmed, though some of the delicate fresco work on the side walls was smoke-begrimed.
“Well, I guess that’s out,” remarked Dutch Housenlager, as he looked down into the basement through the burned hole in the floor.
“And very efficient work you young gentlemen did, too,” complimented the proctor. “If it had gotten much more headway, the chapel would have been consumed. May I ask who discovered the fire.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. Our friends realized what it might mean to tell just how they had discovered it. Their chums, among whom the story had quickly circulated, kept silent.
“I heard the alarm bell ring, and I jumped up,” said Jerry Jackson, innocently.
“So did I,” echoed his brother.
“Who rang the bell?” the proctor wanted to know.
“Could the heat waves have done it?” suggested Professor Newton, who was much interested in science. “It is possible,” and he looked up in the direction of the belfry, and shivered slightly, for he was only partly dressed.
“I rang the bell,” admitted Frank Simpson, in a low voice.