up and stood at ease on either side
of the center to give Troop Five room for their evolutions.

Bob Gibson's position was directly in front of the closed double doors
leading into the hall. He had scarcely taken it before he became
conscious of a distinct odor of something burning. For a moment he was
uneasy; then he remembered that there was a register just behind him, and
decided that the janitor had probably chosen this auspicious moment to
consume in the furnace the rubbishy accumulation of several offices
on the lower floors.

When the applause that greeted their appearance had subsided, Mr. Curtis
stepped forward to explain briefly the purpose of their drill. He had
scarcely spoken more than a sentence or two when Gibson became aware of
a slight stir among some of the audience and noticed that a number of
those in the front row seemed to be staring fixedly at his feet.

A flush mounted to Bob's forehead. He was quite sure his shoes were
immaculately polished. He also realized perfectly that he ought not
notice the audience, but remain rigidly at attention. But presently
curiosity got the better of discipline. He shot a furtive glance at
his feet--a glance that flashed sidewise beyond the trim shoes and
well-fitting leggings to rest in dumb, horrified amazement on the crack
extending below the double doors, through which a thin line of smoke
was slowly trickling.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE RIOT WEDGE

For a long moment Bob Gibson stood like one petrified. He thought of
the crowd, of the narrow, twisted stairs, of panic. What ought he do?
What was there possible for him to do? He tried to remember what the
scout book said about fires and panics, but his brain seemed numb. Before
it had cleared there came a choking cry from the other side, and Bennie
Rhead, the youngest scout in the troop, slipped out of the line, and
before any one could stop him, had jerked open the door to let in a
rolling cloud of dense black smoke.

Like a flash Wesley Becker leaped after him, dragged him back, and
slammed the door; but the damage was done. There was a long, gasping,
concerted sigh, as of hundreds of people catching their breath in unison;
in a second more the hall resounded with that cry which chills the
blood and sends shivers chasing down the spine. To Gibson, standing
pale and frightened, it seemed as if that whole close-packed assemblage
surged up like some awful monster and rushed toward him, a bedlam of
shrill s