else had the beggar been picking up in the way of
knowledge? Maybe Muggles wasn't such a goat, after
all. That Monteith had approved of his tactics only
increased their respect for their companion. Muggles
caught the meaning of the look in their faces and his
waistcoat began to pinch him across his chest. This
life was what he needed, he said to himself. Here
were big men--the lumber-boss was one--and he was
another--doing big things. Nothing like getting
down to primeval Nature for an inspiration! "Hugging
the sod," as he named it, had had its effect not
only on himself, but on his fellows. They would
never have felt that way toward him at the Magnolia.
The week at Wabacog had widened their horizon--
widened everybody's horizon--as for himself he felt
like a Western prairie with limitless possibilities ending
in mountains of accomplishment.

That night, an hour after midnight, Muggles found
himself sitting bolt upright in bed. Outside, filling
the air of the wilderness, bellowed and roared the
deep tones of the steam siren. Then came a babel of
voices gaining in distinctness and volume:

"Fire, FIRE, FIRE!"

Muggles sprang through the door and ran full tilt
into Jackson and Bender, who had vaulted from their
beds but a second before. The next instant every man
in the bungalow, Monteith at their head, came tumbling