was pretty
and vivacious, though her songs were commonplace enough. In one of the
stage boxes were a number of young fellows, not from Milton, and they
began to ogle the singer, who did not seem averse to their attentions.
She edged over to their box, and threw a rose to one of the occupants.

Gallantly enough he tossed back one he was wearing, but at that moment a
companion in front of him had raised a lighted match to his cigarette.

The hand of the young man throwing the rose to the singer struck the
flaring match and sent it over the rail of the box straight at the
flimsy skirts of the performer.

In an instant the tulle had caught fire, and a fringe of flame shot
upward.

The singer ceased her song with a scream that brought the orchestra to a
stop with a crashing chord, and the girl's cries of horror were echoed
by the women in the audience. The girl started to run into the wings,
but Andy, springing from his seat on the aisle, made a leap for the
brass rail behind the musicians.

"Stand still! Stand still! Don't go back there in the draft!" cried
Andy, as he jumped upon the stage over the head of the orchestra leader
and began stripping off his coat.

CHAPTER V

FINAL DAYS

"Fire! Fire!" yelled some foolish ones in the audience.

"Keep still!" shouted Tom Hatfield, who well knew the danger of a panic
in a hall with few exits. "Keep still! Play something!" he called to the
orchestra leader, who was staring at Andy, dazed at the flying leap of
the lad over his head. "Play any old tune!"

It was this that saved the day. The leader tapped with his violin bow on
the tin shade over his electric light and the dazed musicians came to
attention. They began on the number the girl had been singing. It was
like the irony of fate to hear the strains of a sentimental song when
the poor girl was in danger of death. But the music quieted the
audience. Men and women sank back in their seats, watching with
fear-widened eyes the actions of Andy Blair.

And while Tom had thus effectively stopped the incipient panic, Andy had
not been idle. Working with feverish haste, he had wrapped his heavy
coat about the girl, smothering the flames. She was sobbing and
screaming by turns.

"There! There!" cried Andy. "Keep quiet. I have the fire out. You're in
no danger!"

"Oh--oh! But--but the fire----"

"It's out, I tell you!" insisted Andy. "It was only a little blaze!"

He could see tiny tongues of flame where his