"How did it start, Chubby?"

"Guess no one knows. Let's find the other fellows. Give a whoop, Bob!"

"Hello, Sam Randall!"

"Hello, Dick!"

"Hi, hi, Tom Clifton!"

In a few minutes, the Ramblers had managed to locate each other.

"Maybe we can save something yet," cried Bob. "Let's go into the grounds."

There was no railing, consequently they had free access, and the frozen crust presently began to crack sharply beneath their feet.

"Professor Hopkins is over there!" exclaimed Bob Somers. "He just came out of the door."

Bob darted between the groups of people, with the others close at his heels.

"Professor Hopkins!" he cried.

The principal, enveloped in a long coat, seemed almost overcome with emotion. He was staggering along under a load of books.

"Somers!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, sir! We're going to try and save something!"

"I am ruined!" gasped Professor Hopkins, apparently not hearing his words. "The fire is steadily gaining—my office is doomed."

"Come on, fellows!" shouted Bob.

The moment he reached the doorway, Professors Hughes and Ivins came out, each carrying an armful of books.

"Don't go in there!" shouted the former, warningly; "you'll be stifled."

"If the Rockville engine was only here, Professor Hopkins' office might be saved," exclaimed Professor Ivins.

"Boys!" cried Dave Brandon; "I've got an idea. We'll form a chain and get water from the pond."

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