of the tumult of rage in his heart. He was not smiling now. His face had
that set, grim look of the faithful soldier taken prisoner and tortured
to give information about his army's plans. Stephen's eyes shone true,
and his lips were set firmly together.

"Just one nice little cuss-word and we'll take you home," whispered a
tormentor. "A single little word will do, just to show you are a man."

Stephen's face was gray with determination. His yellow hair shone like a
halo about his head. They had taken off his hat and he sat with his arms
folded fiercely across the back of "Andy" Roberts's nifty evening coat.

"Just one little real cuss to show you are a _man_," sneered the
freshman.

But suddenly a smothered cry arose. A breath of fear stirred through the
house. The smell of smoke swept in from a sudden open door. The actors
paused, grew white, and swerved in their places; then one by one fled
out of the scene. The audience arose and turned to panic, even as a
flame swept up and licked the very curtain while it fell.

All was confusion!

The football team, trained to meet emergencies, forgot their cruel play
and scattered, over seats and railing, everywhere, to fire-escapes and
doorways, taking command of wild, stampeding people, showing their
training and their courage.

Stephen, thus suddenly set free, glanced about him, and saw a few feet
away an open door, felt the fresh breeze of evening upon his hot