The New Boy at Hilltop, and Other Stories. Barbour Ralph Henry

slid off the window seat and groped toward where Kenneth was standing.

      "Yes, sir," he said, "as soon as I can find a match." He brushed heavily against Kenneth.

      "I beg your pardon, Garwood. I'm all turned around. Where—? Oh, here they are." A match flared and Grafton lighted the droplight. Mr. Whipple turned to Kenneth, a triumphant smile on his thin features.

      "Well, what have you to say?" he asked.

      "About what, sir!" inquired Kenneth.

      "About smoking. You deny it, then."

      "Yes."

      "Ah! And what about this!" Mr. Whipple opened his hand and displayed a portion of a cigarette with charred end. "You should be more careful where you throw them, Garwood. This came from the window just as I was passing below."

      "It's not mine," was the answer.

      "Oh, then it was you, Hyde?"

      Grafton smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

      "If you can find any cigarettes in my room, sir, you—"

      "Pshaw! What's the use in pretending?" interrupted the instructor, viewing

      Kenneth balefully. "I fancy I know where to look for cigarettes, eh,

      Garwood? You have no objection to emptying your pockets for me?"

      "None at all, Mr. Whipple."

      "Then, may I suggest that you do so?"

      Kenneth dove into one pocket and brought out a handkerchief and a small piece of pencil, into the other and—

      "Ah!" said Mr. Whipple triumphantly.

      In Kenneth's hand lay a piece of folded paper, a skate strap and—a box of cigarettes! He stared at the latter bewilderedly for a moment. Then he glanced sharply at Grafton. That youth regarded him commiseratingly and slowly shook his head.

      "I'll take those, if you please," said Mr. Whipple. Kenneth handed them over.

      "I never saw them before," he said simply.

      "Oh, of course not," jeered the instructor. "And the room rank with cigarette smoke! That's a pretty tall story, I think, Garwood. You told me once that I would never catch you smoking cigarettes. You see you were a trifle mistaken. You may go to your room."

      "I wasn't smoking cigarettes," protested Kenneth. "I never saw that box before in my life. If Hyde won't tell, I will. I came up here and found him—"

      He stopped. What was the use? Telling on another fellow was mean work, and, besides, Mr. Whipple wouldn't believe him. He had no proof to offer and all the evidence was against him. He turned to the door. On the threshold he looked back at Grafton.

      "You sneak!" he said softly.

      Then, with the angry tears blinding his eyes, he hurried down to his room to unburden his heart to Joe Brewster.

      Joe was wildly indignant and was all for dashing upstairs and "knocking the spots out of Graft!" But Kenneth refused his consent to such a procedure.

      "I'll tell them the truth when they call me up," he said. "If they don't believe me they needn't."

      Well, they didn't. Kenneth refused to incriminate Grafton and as all the evidence was strongly against him he was held guilty. The verdict was "suspension" as soon as Kenneth's parents could be communicated with. Grafton denied having smoked with Kenneth and got off with a lecture for permitting an infraction of the rules in his study. Joe stormed and sputtered, but as Kenneth had bound him to secrecy he could do no more.

      That night Upper and Lower met in the second basket-ball game and Grafton Hyde played right guard on the Lower House team. Fate was kind to the Beds. Knox, Upper's crack right forward, was out of the game with a twisted ankle and when the last whistle blew the score board declared Lower House the winner by a score of 12 to 9. And Lower House tramped through the snow, around and around the campus, and made night hideous with songs and cheers until threatened by the faculty with dire punishment if they did not at once retire to their rooms. And up in Number 12 Kenneth, feeling terribly out of it all, heard and was glad of the victory.

      Sunday afternoon he spent in packing his trunk, for, in spite of Joe's pleadings, he was determined not to return to Hilltop when his term of suspension was over. He expected to hear from his father in the morning, in which case he would take the noon train to New York on the first stage of his journey.

      That night they sat up late, since it was to be their last evening together, and Joe was very miserable. He begged Kenneth to go to Dr. Randall and tell just what had occurred. But Kenneth shook his head.

      "He wouldn't believe me if I did," he said. "And, anyhow, what's the use of staying while Whipple's here? He'd get me fired sooner or later. No, the best way to do is to quit now. I'm sorry, Joe; you and I were getting on together pretty well, weren't we?"

      "Yes," answered Joe sadly. And then he became reminiscent and asked whether Kenneth remembered the way they kicked the furniture around that first evening and how Kenneth had joshed Grafton Hyde.

      When they at last went to bed Kenneth found himself unable to sleep. Eleven o'clock struck on the town clock. From across the room came Joe's regular breathing and Kenneth, punching his pillow into a new shape, envied him. For a half hour longer he tossed and turned, and then slumber came to him, yet so fitfully that he was wide awake and out of bed the instant that that first shrill cry of "Fire!" sounded in the corridor.

      V

      Kenneth's first act after hearing the alarm was to awake Joe, This he did by the simple expedient of yanking the bedclothes away from him and yelling "Fire!" at the top of his lungs. Then, stumbling over the chairs, he groped his way to the hall door and opened it. The corridor was already filled with excitement and confusion. Of the eighteen boys who roomed on that floor fully half were in evidence, standing dazedly about in pyjamas or night shirts and shouting useless questions and absurd answers. Simms, who lived at the far end of the corridor, emerged from his room dragging a steamer trunk after him. Instantly the scantily clad youths dashed into their rooms intent on rescuing their belongings. Joe joined Kenneth at the door.

      "Where's the fire?" he gasped.

      "I don't know," answered Kenneth, "but I can smell it. Get something on; I'm going to. Has anyone given the alarm?" he asked, as Simms hurried back toward his study.

      "Yes! No! I don't know! Everything's on fire upstairs! You'd better get your things out!"

      "Somebody ought to give the alarm," said Kenneth. "Who's seen Mr. Bronson?"

      But none had time to answer him. Kenneth scooted down the hall and thumped at the instructor's door. There was no answer and Kenneth unceremoniously shoved it open. The study was in darkness.

      "Mr. Bronson!" he cried. "Mr. Bronson!"

      There was no reply, and Kenneth recollected that very frequently Mr. Bronson spent Sunday night at his home. He hurried back to his own room and found Joe throwing their belongings out of the windows. At that moment the bell on School Hall began to clang wildly and a second afterwards the alarm was taken up by the fire bell in the village, a mile away.

      Kenneth pulled on his trousers and shoes, looked for a coat only to find that Joe had thrown all the coats out of the windows, and went back to the corridor. All up and down it boys were staggering along with trunks and bags, while from the western end the smoke was volleying forth from Number 19 in great billowy clouds. From the floor above raced fellows with suit cases and small trunks, shouting and laughing in the excitement of the moment.

      One of the older boys, Harris by name, came galloping upstairs with a fire extinguisher, followed by a crowd of partly dressed fellows from Upper House. But the smoke which filled the end of the corridor drove them back and the stream from the extinguisher wasted itself against the fast yellowing plaster of the wall. The building was rapidly becoming uninhabitable and, calling Joe from the study, where he was vainly trying to get the study table through the casement, Kenneth made for the stairs. The light at the far end of the corridor shone red and murky through the dense clouds of smoke.

      "All