The Safety First Club Fights Fire

Sam Parker was studying under difficulties. His intentions were of the best; his industry as a rule was proof against distractions. This day though there was something in the very air which seemed to interfere with his work. It was a fine day a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly; a pleasant breeze was blowing; beyond the open windows of the big assembly hall on the third floor of the high school tree tops were swaying gently. In spite of his efforts Sam’s gaze strayed to them and lingered on them to the sad neglect of the instructive remarks on the English paragraph offered by the text-book lying open on his desk. Topic sentences somehow had lost their hold; “proofs” no longer appealed to his reason; conclusions didn’t matter in the least. Sam felt the spell of the spring in his blood and to do him justice fought against its influence. As a student the boy had to earn what he gained. He didn’t lack brains by any manner of means; and he stood well in his classes but this was the result of application rather than of inspiration. He had come up to the hall for a study period because it was quieter than his “home” room where a recitation was in progress; and a score of other pupils had followed the same plan. They were rather widely scattered in the big space of the hall and the teacher who was charged with maintaining order had the easiest of tasks. Spring fever might not promote industry but likewise it did not encourage mischief. From the window Sam’s glance came back to his comrades of the study hour. Nearly all were classmates of his—Juniors—but only two were among his special chums. Over in a corner a slender boy with thick-lensed spectacleswas deep in a calculation being by long odds the busiest person in the room. Sam surveying him chuckled. Willy Reynolds known to his friends as the “Shark” because of his extraordinary appetite for mathematics cared very little what the weather might be or whether the season were winter summer spring or autumn so long as he was provided with an interesting problem. At a little distance from the Shark “Trojan” Walker was dallying with an English exercise. Sam grinned sympathetically while he watched the slow motion of the Trojan’s pencil; he knew just how his friend was longing to be out-of-doors and making holiday. Trojan was a good fellow rather a quiet chap neither a dullard nor brilliant at his books; likable dependable and a valued member of the little coterie of which Sam was the acknowledged leader. Sam’s smile faded as his glance passed from Walker to a brace of his neighbors. He was not fond of Jack Hagle and he disliked Edward Zorn. In the case of the former he might have found it hard to put the reason for his opinion into words. Hagle never had harmed him; at times he had tried to be friendly; but there was something in Jack’s personality which didn’t appeal to Sam. “Hagle puts a fellow’s teeth on edge somehow”—so Sam had said more than once and it would have puzzled him to make the explanation more definite. As for Zorn—well he was a schemer an intriguer a school and class politician always working for this that or the other thing; now fawning now blustering but always keeping the personal fortunes of Edward Zorn in mind. Once or twice Sam and his chums had clashed with Zorn and his allies and the encounters had not left the feeling of respect one sometimes finds for a stout and honest adversary.