fresh breeze of evening upon his hot
forehead, and knew the upper back fire-escape was close at hand. By some
strange whim of a panic-maddened crowd but few had discovered this exit,
high above the seats in the balcony; for all had rushed below and were
struggling in a wild, frantic mass, trampling one another underfoot in a
mad struggle to reach the doorways. The flames were sweeping over the
platform now, licking out into the very pit of the theater, and people
were terrified. Stephen saw in an instant that the upper door, being
farthest away from the center of the fire, was the place of greatest
safety. With one frantic leap he gained the aisle, strode up to the
doorway, glanced out into the night to take in the situation; cool,
calm, quiet, with the still stars overhead, down below the open iron
stairway of the fire-escape, and a darkened street with people like tiny
puppets moving on their way. Then turning back, he tore off the
grotesque coat and vest, the confining collar, and threw them from him.
He plunged down the steps of the aisle to the railing of the gallery,
and, leaning there in his shirt-sleeves and the queer striped trousers,
he put his hands like a megaphone about his lips and shouted:

"Look up! Look up! There is a way to escape up here! Look up!"

Some poor struggling ones heard him and looked up. A little girl was
held up by her father to the strong arms reached out from the low front
of the balcony. Stephen caught her and swung her up beside him, pointing
her up to the door, and shouting to her to go quickly down the
fire-escape, even while he reached out his other hand to catch a woman,
whom willing hands below were lifting up. Men climbed upon the seats and
vaulted up when they heard the cry and saw the way of safety; and some
stayed and worked bravely beside Stephen, wrenching up the seats and
piling them for a ladder to help the women up. More just clambered up
and fled to the fire-escape, out into the night and safety.

But Stephen had no thought of flight. He stayed where he was, with
aching back, cracking muscles, sweat-grimed brow, and worked, his breath
coming in quick, sharp gasps as he frantically helped man, woman, child,
one after another, like sheep huddling over a flood.

Courtland was there.

He had lingered a moment behind the rest in the corner of the dormitory
corridor, glancing into the disfigured room; water, egg-shells, ruin,
disorder everywhere! A little object on the fl