Part 15 (1/2)

”Of course she is,” added Mr. Wattles, suddenly appearing upon the scene. ”Bow, my boy, bow! And couldn't you make a little impromptu speech?”

”Not much!” replied Al, very emphatically. ”I tell you, Mr. Wattles, if I had had any idea that the duties of a press agent included so many public appearances, I should not have gone into the business.”

He bowed; then some one--probably under the manager's direction--called out: ”Speech! speech!”

But Al shook his head so emphatically that the audience saw he meant his refusal, and the applause soon subsided.

A few moments later the curtain rose.

There was very little applause until Miss March made her entrance; her appearance was the signal for another demonstration of enthusiasm. Probably seven-eighths of the audience did not know why they were applauding, but the other eighth did, and its enthusiasm was, as a matter of course, contagious. The applause was literally deafening. In its midst Mr. Merry hurled his bouquet upon the stage. It fell at the feet of the young actress, who picked it up, smiling and blus.h.i.+ng, to the evident delight of the elderly ”masher.”

Mrs. Allston shuddered.

”This life of feverish excitement will kill my child,” she said. ”She must abandon it.”

”Wait till you see her play, mother,” said Al.

”That will not alter my determination.”

”Wait,” added the boy, quietly.

He was not wrong in the conclusion he had reached. Miss March's part was small, but it was a strong one. It was that of a persecuted young girl who had been driven from home because of a misunderstanding. It was a pathetic role, and before the actress had been on the stage five minutes the entire female portion of the audience were in tears, and there was a suspicious moisture in the eyes of more than one of the sterner s.e.x.

”Isn't she fine?” whispered Al in his mother's ear, as the girl left the stage, after her first scene.

”It is wonderful! I am amazed.”

”You did not think there was so much talent in the family, did you? Now, wouldn't it be a pity to rob the stage of such an ornament?”

”Yes.”

”I thought you would say so. I believe she has a great future. But let us leave the decision to her.”

”We will do so, my boy.”

At this moment there came a shrill cry from the gallery.

”Fire!”

For one instant there was a dead silence; then three-quarters of the audience sprang to their feet.

Then came a mad rush for the exits.

It was a scene of indescribable confusion. Women and children were trampled beneath the feet of those who should have been their protectors, but whose only thought now was to save their cowardly selves.

The shrieks of the terrified women, the groans of the injured, the curses of the rougher element, who, though face to face with death, did not fear to blaspheme--these added to the horror of the scene.

It was evident that the alarm had not been a false one, for the house was rapidly filling with smoke, and the crackling of flames could be plainly heard.

The doors soon became blocked. It seemed certain that many must perish in the flames.

Al quickly led his mother through the door that connected the box with the stage, and conducted her in safety out of the building through the stage entrance.

As he pa.s.sed Mr. Wattles at the door he uttered one word: ”Gladys?”

”She is safe,” the manager replied. ”She went out but a moment ago.”

”Thank Heaven! Mother, are you afraid to go back to the hotel alone?”

”No, no; it is but a very short distance. But what are you going to do, my boy?”

”I think I can be of some a.s.sistance in getting the people out. Good-by! I shall be with you again soon.”

And he rushed around to the front of the house, where the confusion was greater than ever.

CHAPTER XXIII.

AN EVENTFUL NIGHT.

The Rockton police force were evidently not equal to the emergency--two or three Hibernians in blue uniform were rus.h.i.+ng wildly about, issuing orders to which no one paid the slightest attention.

Meanwhile nearly a thousand people were confined within the burning building, most of them apparently doomed to a horrible death.

At the doors--of which there were only two--men were fighting like maniacs to escape, and actually r.e.t.a.r.ding their own progress in their mad excitement.

What could one boy hope to do against this panic-stricken throng?

This is the question that Al Allston asked himself.

”I'm afraid I shan't accomplish much,” he said to himself; ”but I'm going to try, anyhow.”

a.s.suming as cool an air as he could, he ran up to the entrance.

”Gentlemen,” he said, ”there is no danger. Take it easy; walk out just as you would at any other time, and everything will be all right. Keep cool.”

Probably not more than half a dozen persons heard the words, but the few who did hear them were impressed by the calm, fearless demeanor of the boy, which was in such striking contrast to that of everyone else in the crowd.

An example of this sort is contagious; word was pa.s.sed from one man to another that the danger was not as great as had been supposed. The conduct of the throng changed almost immediately.

”Walk out quietly,” went on Al, who was now able to make himself heard. ”Those on the right-hand side go in the direction of Grand Street, and those on the left in the direction of Market Street. Don't block the sidewalk. Keep cool, and everyone will get out all right. There is nothing to get excited about.”

These words had almost a magical effect. In reality, there was quite enough in the situation to excite anyone, but Al's apparent calmness and his a.s.sertion that the danger did not amount to anything produced just the result he desired.

The crowd became more rational, and to make a long story short, within three minutes the building was emptied, even of the women and children who had fainted or been injured.

Five minutes later the roof of the building fell in, but there was every reason to believe that not a single human life had been sacrificed.