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that night was the coldest that the oldest inhabitant of kingston could remember. the very winds seemed to be tearing madly about, trying to keep warm, and screaming with pain, they were so cold! ugh! my ears tingle to think of it. the lakerimmers piled the coal high in their stoves, and piled their overcoats, and even the rugs from the floor, over their beds. sleepy, whose blood was so slow that he was never warm enough in winter and never very warm in summer, even spread all the newspapers he could find inside his bed, and crawled in between them, having heard that paper is one of the warmest of coverings. the journals crackled like, popcorn every time he moved; but he moved very little and it would have been a loud noise indeed that could have kept him awake. at a very early hour, then, the volunteers and the rest of the dozen were as snug as bugs in rugs. and then,oh, merciless fate!at the coldest and dismalest hour of the whole twenty-four, when the night is about over and the day is not begun, at about 3 a.m., what, oh, what! should sound, even above the howls of the wind and the rattlings of the windows and doors, but that fiend of a fire-bell! it clanged and banged and clamored and boomed and pounded its way even through the harveyized armor-plate of the lakerim ship of sleep. tug was the first to wake, and his heart almost stopped with horror of the time the old bell had chosen for making itself heard. tug was a brave boy, and he had a high sense of responsibility; but he had also a high sense of the comfort of a good warm bed on a bitter cold night, and he lay there, his heart torn up like a battle-field, where the two angels of duty and evil fought bitterly. and he was perfectly willing to give them plenty of time to fight it out to a finish. in another room of the dormitory there was another struggle going on, though it would be rather flattering to say that they were angels who were struggling. the twins had wakened at the same moment, and each had pretended to be asleep at first. then each had remembered that misery loves company, and each had jabbed the other in the ribs, at the same time. what bell is that? reddy had asked heady, and heady had asked reddy, at the same instant. its that all-fired fire-bell! both exclaimed, each answering the others question and his own. jee-minetly! but this is a pretty time for that old thing to break out! wailed reddy. it ought to be ashamed of itself, moaned heady. its too bad, said reddy; but a fireman mustnt mind the wind or the weather. thats so, sighed heady, but im sorry for you. what! cried reddy, youre sorry for _me_! whats the matter with yourself? why, i couldnt possibly think of going out such a night as this, explained heady; you know i havent been at all well for the last few days. oh, havent you! complained reddy. well, youre twice as well as i am, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to shirk your duty this way. duty! humph! theres nothing the matter with you! it would be criminal for me, though, to go out a night like this, feeling as i do. mother would never forgive me. but you had better hurry, or youll be late, urged heady. hurry nothing! said reddy. im surprised, though, to see you trying to pretend that youre sick, and trying to send me out on a terrible night like this when you _know_ im really sick. then the quarrel waxed fiercer and fiercer, until they quit using words and began to apply hands and feet. it was not many minutes before each had kicked the other out of bed, and each had carried half of the bedclothing with him. neither of them remained any longer than was necessary on the cold floor, but each grabbed up his half of the bedding, and rolled himself up in it, and lay down with great dignity as far away from the other as he could get, even though he hung far over the edge. but the covers had been none too warm all together, and now, divided into half, the twins were soon shivering in misery. they stood it as long as they could, and then, as if by a silent agreement, they decided to declare a peace, and each remarked: i guess were both too sick to go out such a night as this. and they were soon asleep again. * * * * * when punk heard the fire-bell, his heart grew bitter at the thought of the still bitterer night. he did not think it proper for one of his conservative nature to violate all the rules of health and self-respect by going out in such rowdy weather. he peeked over the edge of his coverlet, and saw that his stove was still glowing, and that his own room was not on fire. then he reached out one quick arm and pulled his slippers into bed with him, and when they were warm enough put them on his feet, wrapped himself up well, and, running to the window, raised it quickly, thrust his head out, and looked up and down the campus. this quick glance satisfied him of two things: first, that none of the beloved academy buildings were on fire; and second, that he was never much interested in the old village, anyway. so he toddled back to his cozy bed. b.j. was sleeping so soundly that the fire-bell could not wake him; it simply rang in his ears and mingled with his dreams. in the land of dreams he went to all sorts of fires, and saved thirty or forty lives, mainly of beautiful maidens in top stories of blazing palaces. his dreamland rescues were as heroic as any one could desire, but that was as near as he came to answering the call of the kingston alarm. as for sleepy, it is doubtful if the bell would have awakened him if it had been suspended from his bed-post; but from where it was it never reached even to his dreams, if, indeed, even dreams could have wormed their way into his solid slumbers. tugs conscience, however, was giving him a sharper pain than he suffered at the thought of the night outside. at length he could stand the thought of being found wanting in his duty, no longer. he flung himself out of bed and into his clothes, his teeth beating a tattoo, his knees fighting a boxing-match, and his hands all thumbs with the cold

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