It clanged and banged and clamored and boomed and pounded its way even through the harveyized armor-plate of the Lakerim ship of sleep.
Tug was the first to wake, and his heart almost stopped with horror of the time the old bell had chosen for making itself heard. Tug was a brave boy, and he had a high sense of responsibility; but he had also a high sense of the comfort of a good warm bed on a bitter cold night, and he lay there, his heart torn up like a battle-field, where the two angels of duty and evil fought bitterly. And he was perfectly willing to give them plenty of time to fight it out to a finish.
* * * * *
In another room of the dormitory there was another struggle going on, though it would be rather flattering to say that they were angels who were struggling. The Twins had wakened at the same moment, and each had pretended to be asleep at first. Then each had remembered that misery loves company, and each had jabbed the other in the ribs, at the same time.
"What bell is that?" Reddy had asked Heady, and Heady had asked Reddy, at the same instant.
"It's that all-fired fire-bell!" both exclaimed, each answering the other's question and his own.
"Jee-minetly! but this is a pretty time for that old thing to break out!" wailed Reddy.
"It ought to be ashamed of itself," moaned Heady.
"It's too bad," said Reddy; "but a fireman mustn't mind the wind or the weather."
"That's so," sighed Heady, "but I'm sorry for you."