ces of little children was mixed
with the roar of the monster which crashed on up through the Town,
laying low the homes of our pride and prosperity, leaving us with our
faces to the ground while upon us began to pour a deluge of cold rain.

"Mark! Mark!" I heard Harriet moan beside me and I saw her crawl under
the wind toward where Mark had fallen.

"My babies, Oh, my babies!" came a wail in Nell's voice, and I saw her
try to rise, be knocked over by the wind and then begin to crawl toward
the wrecked mass that a second before had been the schoolhouse and from
which now could be heard the screams and cries of the children. Then as
suddenly as it had laid us low the cruel wind left us and with one
accord we all sprang to our feet and surged toward the children's calls
and cries that came out to us in the semi-darkness that still enveloped
us, though both the wind and the rain were abating.

But before a huge slab that had been the top step of the schoolhouse we
were all halted by a voice so stern and commanding that even the
agonized mothers and fathers paused.

"Stop! Not a man or a woman must come a step nearer," said the parson,
with the authority in his voice that must always be obeyed when used by
one human being to another. "The roof of the house has split and sunk in
the middle and only one side beam is supporting it. If it is touched by
so much as a hand it may lose its balance and fall on the children.
Only one man must come forward and put his shoulder under the beam at
the other end while I hold this. The children must come out one by one,
so as not to shake anything on them. The beam may fall. Do you all
understand me? One man!"

"Me, Parson, me!" demanded Mr. Todd.

"A broader, younger man, Todd," answered the parson, and he was casting
his eye over the huddled people before him when a wail came clear and
distinct from within the ruin.

"Stranger is caught and bleeding! Hurry, hurry!" were the words that
Charlotte sent forth with all the strength of her young lungs.

"It's my child, Oh, it's mine!" came an answering, cry, and from behind
some hiding place Martha Ensley flung herself across the front of the
huddled group of the Settlement people and against the defense of
Gregory Goodloe's strong arm which held her from the tottering doorway
he was supporting. "Let me get him out!"

"No, Martha," the parson said calmly and tenderly, as he held her back.

"Then _you_ come and get him," Martha said,