“Lie still,” said a voice. Dick looked. It was Malcolm Kirk. And beside him was Trevor, looking absurdly like a red Indian in the queer light. And there was Professor Longworth, and somebody he didn’t know, and, oh, lots of other persons! It was really very silly for them to all stand around like that, and---- “Where’s Taylor?” he asked suddenly in a voice that caused him to wonder whether it was really his, so weak and husky was it. “Taylor’s all right,” answered Kirk cheerfully. “They’ve taken him to Hamment’s. How do you feel now?” “Kind of funny; I guess I’m sleepy; I guess I’ll go home.” “You’re going in a minute; they’re bringing a carriage.” Dick started up wildly, clutching at Kirk’s arm. “Is--is anything wrong with me?” he whispered hoarsely. “Have I broken my leg, or--or anything?” “No, certainly not. Only you’re rather weak, you know. We’re going to take you back in a carriage so you won’t have to walk.” “Oh.” He sank back again. Then he whispered: “I can’t have anything the matter with me, you know, because there’s the crew, you see. We have to think of that.” “Certainly,” answered Kirk very, very gravely, “there’s the crew. And here’s the carriage. And to prove to you that you’re all right I’ll let you walk over to it. Bear a hand, Nesbitt.” Dick was raised to his feet, and to his great relief found that he could walk well enough, if a trifle unsteadily, and so reached the carriage and sank into the seat. Trevor took his place beside him, and Kirk sat by the driver, and they whirled away. Back of them the flames were still leaping heavenward, flooding the sky with a crimson radiance as they entered the academy gate. “Are you all right?” whispered Trevor. “Yes, I guess so; kind of tired. I was a silly chump to go and faint that way.” “Rot!” answered Trevor vehemently. “You--you’re a blooming hero, Dick, that’s what you are!” And for reply Dick only shut his eyes and leaned away from his chum. CHAPTER XXI A DISAPPOINTING HERO Dick was a hero. Every one said so; and “every one” certainly ought to have known. His advent at chapel the morning following the fire was the signal for an outburst of applause, a token of approval the like of which had not occurred at Hillton since that far-famed half-back, Joel March, was a student there and had rescued a lad from drowning in the river. Yes, Dick was a hero. Professor Wheeler sent for him and said all kinds of nice things, and the resident instructor, Professor Tompkins, waylaid him in the lower hall of Masters and beamed on him over his glasses, and other members of the Faculty shook hands with him warmly and quoted appropriate things in Greek and Latin, and the students played the part of a monotonous chorus and whispered when he passed.