Frank Armstrong at Queens

by Matthew M. Colton

"Good night," echoed the boys. Jimmy took his departure a few minutes later, and Frank, being tired from the exercise of the afternoon, turned in. David followed as he always followed Frank in everything. Gleason sat pegging away at some obstreperous lesson, and then he, too, with a prodigious yawn, slammed his book shut, and went to his own chamber. Darkness settled upon the old dormitory, and the boys slept.

Frank was dreaming that he was in the middle of a most exciting hockey game. The puck was flying hither and thither, and the spectators were yelling like mad. Suddenly he woke to the realization that there was a yelling, but that it came from the outside, and not from the dream spectators. He sat up in bed and listened. There was a clattering in the entry, a confused sound of voices outside, and then the chapel bell began to ring wildly. What did it all mean? David was also awake now and staring. Suddenly through all the noise outside rose the clear cry:

"Fire! fire! fire!" The terrible cry in the middle of the night brought Frank out of bed standing. He pulled David to his feet, helped him on with a few scanty clothes, and was picking up more clothes, when one of the teachers burst into the room.

"Warren is on fire," he yelled; "hurry up. Fire in the next entry."

Frank and David lost no time in getting down to the ground where they found half of the school already assembled, watching the smoke rolling from the entry windows. No one knew how the fire had started, but the night watchman of the school on making his rounds had smelled smoke, and on investigation located it in the first entry. Quick action by the watchman had raised the alarm, and the boys all over the dormitory were flying from their beds as Frank and David and Gleason had flown. They gathered outside to watch the progress of the flames.

There was a hasty count of noses by Mr. Parks. "Thank heaven, they are all out!" he exclaimed. And it was well, for the smoke was now beginning to roll threateningly from the upper windows of the entry, and now and then a little glint of flames showed where the fire was gaining headway. Across the yard came rattling the volunteer fire apparatus manned by some of the bigger boys and the teachers. Queen's had always boasted a fire department, but there never had been a real test of it, and now that the test had come they seemed terribly slow in getting the hose attached to the hydrant which was fed from the reservoir upon the hill.

All of a sudden, Frank began to look for the Wee One. A terrible thought came to him that he might still be in his room. "Where is Patterson?" he cried frantically, hoping to hear an answer from the Wee One from some safe position on the ground, but there was no answer. It was with a white face that he turned to Mr. Parks, and said: "Patterson must be in his room; he's not down here."

"He couldn't sleep through all this noise, surely not," said Mr. Parks.

"He was in my room last night, and said he was very tired and would sleep sound. O, he must be there and we must save him." He rushed to the doorway up which some of the volunteers were trying to carry the hose, but he was forced back by a dense cloud of black smoke which whirled down the stairway. The stairway was evidently on fire somewhere up above.