From School to Battle-field Part 6

And so it happened that Shorty saw less of his schoolmates and more of his and Snipe's old friends, the firemen, than ever before. At home this was looked upon as decidedly unfortunate, but the lad was so unhappy and restless that no active opposition was made. "No good can ever come from such a.s.sociation," said the one oracular and dogmatic member of the household. But that prophecy was destined to be put to the blush.

Quarter day had come at Pop's,--a day marked in the annals of the school and celebrated in its traditions. More stories centred on that momentous date than on all the other school-days combined. On the Friday of the last week of the expiring quarter each of the Doctor's pupils would be handed an envelope addressed to his responsible parent or guardian, and each envelope so addressed contained the school bill for the ensuing quarter, filled out in the Doctor's unique and dainty hand. No writing was ever like it. Pop had a system of penmans.h.i.+p, as he had of punishment, of instruction, and school discipline, peculiarly his own.

His capital letters were always large, clear, and well formed. His small letters, except those extending above and below the line, were indicated by tiny, back-handed dashes that individually conveyed no idea and collectively were unmistakable. Not a word of instruction accompanied the presentation of the missive, but every boy knew infallibly what to expect. From time immemorial in the history of the school the unwritten law had been that every boy appearing with the cash or check in payment of the bill early on the following Monday morning might go his way on whole holiday. If the money came on Tuesday the bearer was released at twelve o'clock; but if it failed to come on Wednesday the pupil found himself drifting from one sc.r.a.pe into another until it did come, and old boys used to declare that pretexts were never lacking, when they were of the school, to warrant the Doctor in flogging, every day until the money came, the hapless lad whose parents failed to meet the demand on time.

Small wonder that Pop's boys developed phenomenal powers as bill collectors and that Pop himself had no dunning letters to write.

The late autumn had given way to early winter, sharp and frosty. A great presidential election had been held some weeks before. The East was excited and the South enraged over the victory of a far Western candidate, almost unknown to Gotham. Rumors more and more alarming of Southern force and fury flew from lip to lip as November drew to its close, and December, frosty but kindly, was ushered in. The boys had separated Friday afternoon, taking the bills with them, and early Monday morning Oth.e.l.lo sat "for such occasions only" at the Doctor's desk, in readiness to receipt for checks or cash before the opening hours of school. A dozen at least of the First Latin had gleefully gone their way. Another dozen, less fortunate, lolled dejectedly on the benches, devoutly wis.h.i.+ng their _paters_ were as well to do as those of the holiday-makers (which many were, but held to a theory that Pop found too many excuses for holidays). Shorty was neither with one nor the other.

Nine o'clock came and two of the First Latin had not reported; Hoover was the other. The bell rang. Beach was told off to put the supposedly derelict through their paces in Sall.u.s.t, while Halsey went on signing receipts, shoving money into the drawer, and saying, "You may go,"

briefly as possible, to the boys who came provided. The rule held good for the entire school, and by quarter-past nine the rector's drawer was stored with something over a thousand dollars in checks, bank-notes, and coin. It was fully half-past nine when Hoover came slowly and sullenly up the stairs and entered the room. Briggs, sitting at the foot of the incarcerated dozen, jocularly hailed him with, "Hullo! for once in his life Hoover won't have to sit on the mourners' bench."

"Go there yourself, sir!" said Beach, sternly, bringing Briggs instantly to his feet with whining expostulation. "Why, what did I say, sir?" And it takes more fines and much frowning to settle him, Oth.e.l.lo never interposing, for this money taking and changing is his bane. He has to do it in the Doctor's absence, but he hates it. He counts over every penny slowly and carefully, for the rector requires account to the uttermost farthing, and small boys waiting for their receipt fidget impatiently.

Hoover, mean time, is removing coat, gloves, and m.u.f.fler with exaggerated deliberation, and seizes the opportunity when Beach turns to the head with a question, and while the stove-pipe hides Oth.e.l.lo's eyes, to administer a fervent kick to Briggs and send that sandy-haired young fellow's Sall.u.s.t flying to mid-floor, Briggs, of course, lending unnecessary and additional centrifugal impetus to his belongings, and in the midst of the acrimonious debate that follows a bounding step is heard on the stair and in comes Shorty, flushed, panting a bit, and filled with suppressed excitement and evident importance. He squeezes in between Hoover and the rack to hang up his top-coat, Hoover swaying backward, of course, to make it as difficult and disagreeable a process as possible.

"Come out of that, Hoover, and take your seat," orders Beach, sternly.

But "Polyblasphemous" is ugly and rebellious. Not until Shorty has a second time squeezed by is Hoover made to obey. Even then he turns back and rummages among the coat pockets, claiming that he has left his handkerchief therein. Hoover's handkerchief, like charity, is made to cover a mult.i.tude of sins. He feels in a dozen pockets, apparently, before he finds it. So engrossed is the cla.s.s, or what is left of it, in the effort to bring order out of chaos at the foot of the room--and Hoover from among the overcoats--that few see that Shorty has handed Oth.e.l.lo a note before silently taking his seat. Hoover is presently settled below Briggs, fined five marks for being late and another five for trifling, and the recitation goes on, Beach evidently ruffled. Then Oth.e.l.lo looks up and beckons to Shorty, who silently goes to his side.

"When did the Doctor give you this?" he asks, in low tone; but now the boys are still as mice and listening intently.

"Just at nine, sir, up at his house. I caught him going up to college and gave him the letter, and he turned back and wrote that." Shorty never could explain a thing in few words.

There is a sound as of shouting and excitement on the avenue above the school and of swift-running feet, but at the moment no attention is paid. "The Doctor says you are to have whole holiday," continues Halsey, in his monotonous tones. The noise without is increasing.

"I--don't care to go, sir," says Shorty, hesitating, and the cla.s.s looks up in astonishment. The noise has spread to the rooms to the east,--the nursery,--where the small boys are; a banging of windows and shades, a rush of many feet, and all of a sudden the leaden-colored door flies open and Meeker appears, pale and excited.

"Mr. Halsey!" he cries, "a house right back of us is all in a blaze.

Shall I dismiss my cla.s.s?"

"Wait a moment," answers the head-master, ever deliberate, and away he goes, long striding, the First Latin, despite Beach's effort, tearing after him. Then Beach follows the tide. The house in flames is not just back of them, but near enough to prove a source of tremendous interest and excitement, if not of danger. It faces on Twenty-fifth Street, just beyond the stable, and backs up into the grape-vined, fence-crossed rectangle at the back. Smoke in thick volumes is pouring out of the back windows. A tongue of flame licks out under the narrow gallery at the rear of the main floor as Halsey forces his way through a mob of shouting small boys to the open window. The First Latin comes tumbling after him, shoving Meeker aside. Borne on the breath of the rising east wind, a single, solemn "bong" of the Twenty-third Street tower tells that the watcher has quickly descried the unusual smoke-cloud billowing up from the doomed dwelling. People in adjoining houses are throwing open blinds and shouting unintelligible things. Boys and men come clambering over fences from adjoining yards. Cooks and housemaids gather on back galleries, huddling together with shawls over their heads and red arms wrapped in flimsy ap.r.o.ns. A pile of bedding comes hurtling down through the smoke from a third-story window, followed by a lot of books. Somebody has fetched a ladder, and a dozen boys and men have scrambled to the tar and pebble roof of the stable, and there they dance and shout and run hither and yon, but still no firemen appear. The nearest hook and ladder company "lies" seven blocks away. The school is down at the foot of the First (fire) District. The jangling bells of 61 Hose can be heard coming on the jump down the avenue, and every boy knows Pacific Engine can't be a block behind. But now the "hot black breath" rus.h.i.+ng from the bas.e.m.e.nt and first-floor windows bursts all at once into furious red flames, and Halsey says resignedly, "School's dismissed till the fire's out." The boys go tumbling over each other's heels in mad dash for the door, and the thunder of feet, as they go leaping down the narrow stairway, shakes and scandalizes the watchmakers in the little shop below, and Mr. Foley, rus.h.i.+ng out at the first boy he can lay hands on, shakes him in turn until, amazed and wrathful, the young fellow breaks loose, whirls about, and lands a stunning left-and-right full in Foley's angry face, and turns it even redder, while every other big boy springs to the aid of "28," just lowering her long side levers and "taking the b.u.t.t" from "61," while two or three stalwart, black-helmeted fellows dart up the brownstone steps and into the smoke-vomiting doorway, glistening pipe in hand, the copper-riveted, black leather hose trailing behind them. Before the water gushes from the corner hydrant and swells the snake-like coils that connect with the engine, the pipemen come reeling out before the jetting flames, and everybody knows that that fire will burn itself out and not succ.u.mb to water. In their haste, many lads have left their overcoats on the rack, and from the midst of these emerges Hoover, twisting the silken m.u.f.fler about his throat, the only pupil left in the main school room, as Halsey suddenly recollects himself--and the cash in the Doctor's drawer--and comes hurrying back to that abandoned desk. The drawer is half-way open, the checks and bank-notes seem undisturbed, but Halsey knows there were a number of ten-dollar gold pieces in the lot, and now there isn't one.

Long before that lively blaze is out and only bare burned walls are left standing, the Doctor himself arrives upon the scene, and the head-master, with rueful face, reports himself about one hundred dollars short.

CHAPTER XI.

When the order "Take up" was finally given that afternoon to the array of fire companies that covered the first and second fire districts, most of Pop's boys were still among the swarm of spectators. The fire had broken out soon after nine o'clock, and not until one were some of the companies sent home. Under the system existing in those days every engine, hose, and hook and ladder company whose station was north of Twenty-second or south of Sixtieth Street had had to answer that alarm,--old "Black Joke," Engine Company 33, having to drag their heavy "Carson" machine all the way from the neighborhood of Fifty-ninth Street and Broadway. There was nothing left of the house in which the fire started, and neighboring buildings were badly scorched in places and more or less damaged by water. There were no "chemicals" then. The stable had been in danger several times, and Pop's boys had performed prodigies of valor early in the affair, leading out the affrighted horses and wheeling buggies and wagons into the street. The cars on Fourth Avenue had to stop for over an hour, so numerous were the lines of hose, and both that avenue and Twenty-fifth Street and the roofs and windows of adjoining buildings were thronged with lookers-on. The Doctor was much displeased on his arrival to find his back windows occupied on both floors by total strangers, who made themselves perfectly at home and couldn't be induced to leave by any intimation of the janitor that the princ.i.p.al would like to close up. The Doctor was more than displeased when he heard from Halsey of the filching of the gold. No pupil saw that interview. A few of the smaller boys were at the back widows, but only John noted the two in their grave consultation, and he was promptly ordered to leave the room, and could only guess what was going on until the following day. As the firemen stretched their drag-ropes and started for home Halsey suggested summoning the boys back to their seats and studies, but Pop said no,--it was too late in the day. He wished to think, and, tucking the cash and checks in an inside pocket and his cane under his arm, leaving Halsey to see to the closing up of the rooms, the Doctor went slowly down-stairs and out upon the crowded street. He had had to thread his way through the jam at Twenty-fifth Street, and wanted no more of that. A line of hose stretched along the sidewalk from the hydrant at the corner below, and he looked upon it with stern and scholastic disapproval, but followed its lead and came upon a familiar face. It being a "neighborhood" fire, the Metamora Hose had run over from Fifth Avenue and Twenty-first Street, being almost as soon upon the scene as 61. Taking the hydrant at Twenty-fourth Street, her men had unreeled up the avenue and around the stable, giving their "b.u.t.t" to Lexington 7, who, with their big double-decker, came speeding over from Third Avenue. And now the prettily painted hose carriage was drawn up close to the curb at Twenty-fourth Street, and half a dozen young fellows were lolling about the wheels and tongue, smoking and talking loudly, with much exaggerated imitation of the Bowery dialect of the day. But the slangy, swaggering talk came to sudden stop. Two cigars, at least, were tossed or dropped into the flooded gutters, and two or three hats were lifted as Hoover, Briggs, and a "horsey" young man, whose specialties were c.o.c.k-fights and "canine sports," suddenly recognized the Doctor. With grave dignity Pop lifted his beaver, and his stern eyes gazed in disapprobation upon the party. He knew the others, as he did his own black sheep, at a glance.

There were the Hulkers, the flas.h.i.+est of New York youths, the objects of his especial dislike. He had known their father, a worthy man despite his swiftly acquired wealth, and the boys, too, had spent six months within the Doctor's walls before the death of that lamented financier.

But a doting mother had long since withdrawn them from the tyranny and oppression to which her beloved sons were there subjected. The Doctor had his regular habits and his regular route. No boy there had ever known him to turn southward from his school door before this day, and his coming suddenly upon them was a shock so severe that it dashed for the moment even Briggs's effrontery. Hoover turned a sickly yellow, and looked as though he would have been glad to crawl under the hose carriage. Briggs "made a sneak" to get the reel between him and the Doctor's glowering eyes, but Pop halted short and stood with pointed cane, and Briggs saw it was useless and crawled out again. "Smoking!"

said the rector, comprehending the s.e.xtette in general condemnation.

"Idling! Wasting the substance of honest men in forbidden and stolen indulgence. Here, you, sir!" to Briggs, "get you gone out of this. Go home and study, and if you miss a line of to-morrow's lessons I'll pack you out of school." "Pack" as a verb and "copious" as an adjective were pets in the rector's school vocabulary. "The same to you, my horsey young friend, Mr. Brodrick. As for you," he continued, addressing the Hulkers and their companion, who, with hands in pockets and hats tipped back, were striving to keep up appearance of bravado, "I shall reach you through another channel." Then, his manner suddenly changing, he turned on Hoover, now blinking and sidling away through the quickly gathering knot of inquisitive folk. "Hoover, come with me," he said, and Hoover, who looked as though he would give a year of his life to get out of the way, meekly slunk along at the Doctor's side.

Majestically the rector strode across the street and went on southward, vouchsafing no word to the culprit on his left. There were still curious knots of loungers along the avenue. One or two companies were manning the brakes in Twenty-fourth Street, the hose of their engines being carried through the bas.e.m.e.nts of the red brick houses to the rear of the wrecked premises. Furtively Briggs and Brodrick watched the pair until lost to sight, all but the Doctor's hat, in the throngs along the walk.

Then an anxious, nervous glance was exchanged, and Brodrick whispered to his freckle-faced schoolmate. "What's he heard, d'you s'pose?" was his query.

"We'd better look up 61 and see what the other fellows know," said Briggs, in low tone, while the Hulkers, now that the rector was well away, resumed their loud laughter. "You go, Brod; I can't show up in that crowd just now." The memory of the a.s.sault on Snipe was still fresh in the minds of some of the lads. Very possibly it was this that held the Hulkers and their henchmen so far away from the fire itself and from the spot where, over a block away, 61's white hose-reel and silver lamps could be seen above the crowd. Even now that shame and suspicion attached to George Lawton's name, those fellows, lately his accusers, if not indeed his active a.s.sailants, felt it unsafe to venture among a lot of the First Latin.

Brodrick peered up the street and shook his head. "Not if the court knows herself," he said, with the Bowery drawl; then, turning to Hulker, "Sa-ay, Skinny, gimme 'nother seegar." But the Hulker apostrophized as "Skinny" declined.

"You've cleaned me out of the last one. Go buy some if you want 'em."

"I ain't got a dime. Hope to drop dead next minute if I have. Sa-ay, lend me five dollars till Christmas on that watch-chain?" he pleaded, lifting a clumsy production from a waistcoat-pocket. But the next minute he thrust it back in haste and confusion. Beach, with observing eye, came sweeping down upon them. "Mr. Halsey wishes to see you both at once," said he, with scant ceremony. "Lose no time," and, though the message filled them both with uneasiness, neither dare disregard it.

Halsey sat at the old table as they slunk into the school-room. Two or three First Latin men and Second Latin boys were grouped about him; John, the janitor, was dodging about the door. Every boy in the number had on his overcoat, but at least half a dozen others had left theirs hanging on the rack.

"Yes, sir, I know whose they are," Doremus was saying. "There's Beekman's, and there's Bagshot's, and that's Prime's, and those are Second Latin coats," he added, with proper indifference to the infant garments. Halsey thought a moment.

"They must still be somewhere about," he said, tentatively, as Briggs and Brodrick ranged up behind the smaller lads. "Where's Hoover?" he questioned. "He was with you a moment ago."

"Gone with the Doctor, sir," said Briggs, glad enough to have no harder question to answer.

A long hook-and-ladder truck that had been standing for some hours in front of the school was being reloaded with its ladders, and its gong was sounding to recall scattered members of the company. Some small boys had tiptoed to the window to feast their eyes on the unaccustomed sight.

"There's some of our fellows over by 61's Hose now, sir," piped a junior, and John was bidden to go and again summon all stragglers into school. Ringing of his bell had only resulted in derisive comment among the firemen. Some company just starting for home was receiving the customary "hi, hi" of the hangers-on about the other machines, and John's mandates produced no immediate effect. At last, however, the boys came straggling up in knots of two or three, and presently perhaps a dozen were added to the group about the master's table. He was listening rather absently to the excited talk. No less than six or eight of the youngsters had personally rescued as many horses apiece, despite the fact that there never were more than twenty of those quadrupeds, all told, in the adjoining stable. Halsey made Briggs repeat his statement as to Hoover and seemed disappointed. "Is this all you can find?" he finally said to the janitor, and John declared it was.

"Didn't you tell me Prime was down there, somewhere?" asked Halsey of Doremus.

"He's sure to be, sir. His coat's here yet."

So again the janitor was sent forth, and again came back to say he could see nothing of the lad, and at last the master decided to keep the others no longer. Bagshot took his coat and left. There were only two remaining on the rack when the usual hour for closing school drew nigh.

The occupants of the rear windows by this time had satisfied their curiosity and departed, and John had been ordered to keep the doors closed and to admit no more. For some reason Halsey seemed to hang on to Briggs to the very last, and he and Brodrick were still fretting about the benches, awaiting the master's permission to retire and glancing apprehensively at each other from time to time.

At last Halsey beckoned them to his side.

"Where were you when the cla.s.s followed me into the other room?" asked he of Briggs.

"_With_ 'em, sir!" said Briggs, with eagerness. "Wasn't I, Brodrick? We were among the first to follow."

"Yes, sir," a.s.severated Brodrick as positively. "We chased right in after you."

"How long did you stay in there?" asked Halsey. "I'm told you were among the first to bolt down-stairs--before school was dismissed."

"A minute or two, anyhow," declared Briggs. "I thought school was dismissed or I wouldn't 'a' run."

"Did the whole cla.s.s follow? Did any remain?" he asked, searching the anxious features before him. He and Beach had already talked this over among themselves. John, too, had been examined, but further testimony was needed. Briggs reflected.

"Hoover was there, sir, and Shorty Prime."

"When you came out, do you mean?"

"Ye-ye-yes, sir. 't least Prime was. I didn't see Hoover."

"Where was Prime? Are you sure he was there?"

"Right up at the Doctor's desk, sir, where you were sitting."

"He was there still when you came out?"

"Ye-yes, sir. Wasn't he, Brodrick?"