sisters were in it. The more I thought of it, the weaker I felt, until
my knees were shaking. In about twenty minutes I was at the Belmont
Station determined to go to the city to learn the fate of my family.

I tried to telephone, but I was told that both telephone and wire
connections between San Francisco and Belmont were broken. This was the
first proof that the earthquake was more than local, and my fears were
heightened. As I waited I was joined by other boys. All were curious to
know what had happened in other places, but few were worried. Soon the
entire school was gathered at the station. A teacher on a bicycle
arrived and demanded in the name of Mr. R - that we return to school.
The majority complied, but five of us refused. We were promised
expulsion.

At last the train pulled in. We boarded it with difficulty, for it was
packed with Stanford students. They told us that their college was a
wreck.

"The buildings are of stone, you know," said one, "and stone buildings
can't stand up against, an earthquake."

Hearing remarks like this made me so dizzy with dread that I began
picturing to myself the ruins of my home. I could almost hear the groans
of those most dear to me buried under tons of stone and beams, It was
maddening, and I had to struggle some to keep from crying out like a
child.

Slowly the train pulled by the ruins of San Mateo, Burlingame, and
Milbrae, but just outside of San Bruno the long line of straining cars
came to a sudden halt. We climbed out to find out the cause of the stop.