i went away hastily, down a cross-street, and at the first corner i saw another tragedy. two men of the working class had caught a man and a woman with two children, and were robbing them. i knew the man by sight, though i had never been introduced to him. he was a poet whose verses i had long admired. yet i did not go to his help, for at the moment i came upon the scene there was a pistol shot, and i saw him sinking to the ground. the woman screamed, and she was felled with a fist-blow by one of the brutes. i cried out threateningly, whereupon they discharged their pistols at me and i ran away around the corner. here i was blocked by an advancing conflagration. the buildings on both sides were burning, and the street was filled with smoke and flame. from somewhere in that murk came a woman's voice calling shrilly for help. but i did not go to her. a man's heart turned to iron amid such scenes, and one heard all too many appeals for help.

“returning to the corner, i found the two robbers were gone. the poet and his wife lay dead on the pavement. it was a shocking sight. the two children had vanished—whither i could not tell. and i knew, now, why it was that the fleeing persons i encountered slipped along so furtively and with such white faces. in the midst of our civilization, down in our slums and labor-ghettos, we had bred a race of barbarians, of savages; and now, in the time of our calamity, they turned upon us like the wild beasts they were and destroyed us. and they destroyed themselves as well.

“they inflamed themselves with strong drink and committed a thousand atrocities, quarreling and killing one another in the general madness. one group of workingmen i saw, of the better sort, who had banded together, and, with their women and children in their midst, the sick and aged in litters and being carried, and with a number of horses pulling a truck-load of provisions, they were fighting their way out of the city. they made a fine spectacle as they came down the street through the drifting smoke, though they nearly shot me when i first appeared in their path. as they went by, one of their leaders shouted out to me in apologetic explanation. he said they were killing the robbers and looters on sight, and that they had thus banded together as the only-means by which to escape the prowlers.

“it was here that i saw for the first time what i was soon to see so often. one of the marching men had suddenly shown the unmistakable mark of the plague. immediately those about him drew away, and he, without a remonstrance, stepped out of his place to let them pass on. a woman, most probably his wife, attempted to follow him. she was leading a little boy by the hand. but the husband commanded her sternly to go on, while others laid hands on her and restrained her from following him. this i saw, and i saw the man also, with his scarlet blaze of face, step into a doorway on the opposite side of the street. i heard the report of his pistol, and saw him sink lifeless to the ground.

“after being turned aside twice again by advancing fires, i succeeded in getting through to the university. on the edge of the campus i came upon a party of university folk who were going in the direction of the chemistry building. they were all family men, and their families were with them, including the nurses and the servants. professor badminton greeted me, i had difficulty in recognizing him. somewhere he had gone through flames, and his beard was singed off. about his head was a bloody bandage, and his clothes were filthy.

“he told me he had prowlers, and that his brother had been killed the previous night, in the defence of their dwelling.

“midway across the campus, he pointed suddenly to mrs. swinton's face. the unmistakable scarlet was there. immediately all the other women set up a screaming and began to run away from her. her two children were with a nurse, and these also ran with the women. but her husband, doctor swinton, remained with her.

“'go on, smith,' he told me. 'keep an eye on the children. as for me, i shall stay with my wife. i know she is as already dead, but i can't leave her. afterwards, if i escape, i shall come to the chemistry building, and do you watch for me and let me in.'

“i left him bending over his wife and soothing her last moments, while i ran to overtake the party. we were the last to be admitted to the chemistry building. after that, with our automatic rifles we maintained our isolation. by our plans, we had arranged for a company of sixty to be in this refuge. instead, every one of the number originally planned had added relatives and friends and whole families until there were over four hundred souls. but the chemistry building was large, and, standing by itself, was in no danger of being burned by the great fires that raged everywhere in the city.

“a large quantity of provisions had been gathered, and a food committee took charge of it, issuing rations daily to the various families and groups that arranged themselves into messes. a number of committees were appointed, and we developed a very efficient organization. i was on the committee of defence, though for the first day no prowlers came near. we could see them in the distance, however, and by the smoke of their fires knew that several camps of them were occupying the far edge of the campus. drunkenness was rife, and often we heard them singing ribald songs or insanely shouting. while the world crashed to ruin about them and all the air was filled with the smoke of its burning, these low creatures gave rein to their bestiality and fought and drank and died. and after all, what did it matter? everybody died anyway, the good and the bad, the efficients and the weaklings, those that loved to live and those that scorned to live. they passed. everything passed.

“when twenty-four hours had gone by and no signs of the plague were apparent, we congratulated ourselves and set about digging a well. you have seen the great iron pipes which in those days carried water to all the city-dwellers. we feared that the fires in the city would burst the pipes and empty the reservoirs. so we tore up the cement floor of the central court of the chemistry building and dug a well. there were many young men, undergraduates, with us, and we worked night and day on the well. and our fears were confirmed. three hours before we reached water, the pipes went dry.

“a second twenty-four hours passed, and still the plague did not appear among us. we thought we were saved. but we did not know what i afterwards decided to be true, namely, that the period of the incubation of the plague germs in a human's body was a matter of a number of days. it slew so swiftly when once it manifested itself, that we were led to believe that the period of incubation was equally swift. so, when two days had left us unscathed, we were elated with the idea that we were free of the contagion.

“but the third day disillusioned us. i can never forget the night preceding it. i had charge of the night guards from eight to twelve, and from the roof of the building i watched the passing of all man's glorious works. so terrible were the local conflagrations that all the sky was lighted up. one could read the finest print in the red glare. all the world seemed wrapped in flames. san francisco spouted smoke and fire from a score of vast conflagrations that were like so many active volcanoes. oakland, san leandro, haywards—all were burning; and to the northward, clear to point richmond, other fires were at work. it was an awe-inspiring spectacle. civilization, my grandsons, civilization was passing in a sheet of flame and a breath of death. at ten o'clock that night, the great powder magazines at point pinole exploded in rapid succession. so terrific were the concussions that the strong building rocked as in an earthquake, while every pane of glass was broken. it was then that i left the roof and went down the long corridors, from room to room, quieting the alarmed women and telling them what had happened.

“an hour later, at a window on the ground floor, i heard pandemonium break out in the camps of the prowlers. there were cries and screams, and shots from many pistols. as we afterward conjectured, this fight had been precipitated by an attempt on the part of those that were well to drive out those that were sick. at any rate, a number of the plague-stricken prowlers escaped across the campus and drifted against our doors. we warned them back, but they cursed us and discharged a fusillade from their pistols. professor merryweather, at one of the windows, was instantly killed, the bullet striking him squarely between the eyes. we opened fire in turn, and all the prowlers fled away with the exception of three. one was a woman. the plague was on them and they were reckless. like foul fiends, there in the red glare from the skies, with faces blazing, they continued to curse us and fire at us. one of the men i shot with my own hand. after that the other man and the woman, still cursing us, lay down under our windows, where we were compelled to watch them die of the plague.

“the situation was critical. the explosions of the powder magazines had broken all the windows of the chemistry building, so that we were exposed to the germs from the corpses. the sanitary committee was called upon to act, and it responded nobly. two men were required to go out and remove the corpses, and this meant the probable sacrifice of their own lives, for, having performed the task, they were not to be permitted to reenter the building. one of the professors, who was a bachelor, and one of the undergraduates volunteered. they bade good-bye to us and went forth. they were heroes. they gave up their lives that four hundred others might live. after they had performed their work, they stood for a moment, at a distance, looking at us wistfully. then they waved their hands in farewell and went away slowly across the campus toward the burning city.

“and yet it was all useless. the next morning the first one of us was smitten with the plague—a little nurse-girl in the family of professor stout. it was no time for weak-kneed, sentimental policies. on the chance that she might be the only one, we thrust her forth from the building and commanded her to be gone.

“she went away slowly across the campus, wringing her hands and crying pitifully. we felt like brutes, but what were we to do? there were four hundred of us, and individuals had to be sacrificed.

“in one of the laboratories three families had domiciled themselves, and that afternoon we found among them no less than four corpses and seven cases of the plague in all its different stages.

“then it was that the horror began. leaving the dead lie, we forced the living ones to segregate themselves in another room. the plague began to break out among the rest of us, and as fast as the symptoms appeared, we sent the stricken ones to these segregated rooms. we compelled them to walk there by themselves, so as to avoid laying hands on them. it was heartrending. but still the plague raged among us, and room after room was filled with the dead and dying. and so we who were yet clean retreated to the next floor and to the next, before this sea of the dead, that, room by room and floor by floor, inundated the building.

“the place became a charnel house, and in the middle of the night the survivors fled forth, taking nothing with them except arms and ammunition and a heavy store of tinned foods. we camped on the opposite side of the campus from the prowlers, and, while some stood guard, others of us volunteered to scout into the city in quest of horses, motor cars, carts, and wagons, or anything that would carry our provisions and enable us to emulate the banded workingmen i had seen fighting their way out to the open country.

“i was one of these scouts; and doctor hoyle, remembering that his motor car had been left behind in his home garage, told me to look for it. we scouted in pairs, and dombey, a young undergraduate, accompanied me. we had to cross half a mile of the residence portion of the city to get to doctor hoyle's home. here the buildings stood apart, in the midst of trees and grassy lawns, and here the fires had played freaks, burning whole blocks, skipping blocks and often skipping a single house in a block. and here, too, the prowlers were still at their work. we carried our automatic pistols openly in our hands, and looked desperate enough, forsooth, to keep them from attacking us. but at doctor hoyle's house the thing happened. untouched by fire, even as we came to it the smoke of flames burst forth.

“the miscreant who had set fire to it staggered down the steps and out along the driveway. sticking out of his coat pockets were bottles of whiskey, and he was very drunk. my first impulse was to shoot him, and i have never ceased regretting that i did not. staggering and maundering to himself, with bloodshot eyes, and a raw and bleeding slash down one side of his bewhiskered face, he was altogether the most nauseating specimen of degradation and filth i had ever encountered. i did not shoot him, and he leaned against a tree on the lawn to let us go by. it was the most absolute, wanton act. just as we were opposite him, he suddenly drew a pistol and shot dombey through the head. the next instant i shot him. but it was too late. dombey expired without a groan, immediately. i doubt if he even knew what had happened to him.

“leaving the two corpses, i hurried on past the burning house to the garage, and there found doctor hoyle's motor car. the tanks were filled with gasoline, and it was ready for use. and it was in this car that i threaded the streets of the ruined city and came back to the survivors on the campus. the other scouts returned, but none had been so fortunate. professor fairmead had found a shetland pony, but the poor creature, tied in a stable and abandoned for days, was so weak from want of food and water that it could carry no burden at all. some of the men were for turning it loose, but i insisted that we should lead it along with us, so that, if we got out of food, we would have it to eat.

“there were forty-seven of us when we started, many being women and children. the president of the faculty, an old man to begin with, and now hopelessly broken by the awful happenings of the past week, rode in the motor car with several young children and the aged mother of professor fairmead. wathope, a young professor of english, who had a grievous bullet-wound in his leg, drove the car. the rest of us walked, professor fairmead leading the pony.

“it was what should have been a bright summer day, but the smoke from the burning world filled the sky, through which the sun shone murkily, a dull and lifeless orb, blood-red and ominous. but we had grown accustomed to that blood-red sun. with the smoke it was different. it bit into our nostrils and eyes, and there was not one of us whose eyes were not bloodshot. we directed our course to the southeast through the endless miles of suburban residences, travelling along where the first swells of low hills rose from the flat of the central city. it was by this way, only, that we could expect to gain the country.

“our progress was painfully slow. the women and children could not walk fast. they did not dream of walking, my grandsons, in the way all people walk to-day. in truth, none of us knew how to walk. it was not until after the plague that i learned really to walk. so it was that the pace of the slowest was the pace of all, for we dared not separate on account of the prowlers. there were not so many now of these human beasts of prey. the plague had already well diminished their numbers, but enough still lived to be a constant menace to us. many of the beautiful residences were untouched by fire, yet smoking ruins were everywhere. the prowlers, too, seemed to have got over their insensate desire to burn, and it was more rarely that we saw houses freshly on fire.

“several of us scouted among the private garages in search of motor cars and gasoline. but in this we were unsuccessful. the first great flights from the cities had swept all such utilities away. calgan, a fine young man, was lost in this work. he was shot by prowlers while crossing a lawn. yet this was our only casualty, though, once, a drunken brute deliberately opened fire on all of us. luckily, he fired wildly, and we shot him before he had done any hurt.

“at fruitvale, still in the heart of the magnificent residence section of the city, the plague again smote us. professor fairmead was the victim. making signs to us that his mother was not to know, he turned aside into the grounds of a beautiful mansion. he sat down forlornly on the steps of the front veranda, and i, having lingered, waved him a last farewell. that night, several miles beyond fruitvale and still in the city, we made camp. and that night we shifted camp twice to get away from our dead. in the morning there were thirty of us. i shall never forget the president of the faculty. during the morning's march his wife, who was walking, betrayed the fatal symptoms, and when she drew aside to let us go on, he insisted on leaving the motor car and remaining with her. there was quite a discussion about this, but in the end we gave in. it was just as well, for we knew not which ones of us, if any, might ultimately escape.

“that night, the second of our march, we camped beyond haywards in the first stretches of country. and in the morning there were eleven of us that lived. also, during the night, wathope, the professor with the wounded leg, deserted us in the motor car. he took with him his sister and his mother and most of our tinned provisions. it was that day, in the afternoon, while resting by the wayside, that i saw the last airship i shall ever see. the smoke was much thinner here in the country, and i first sighted the ship drifting and veering helplessly at an elevation of two thousand feet. what had happened i could not conjecture, but even as we looked we saw her bow dip down lower and lower. then the bulkheads of the various gas-chambers must have burst, for, quite perpendicular, she fell like a plummet to the earth.

“and from that day to this i have not seen another airship. often and often, during the next few years, i scanned the sky for them, hoping against hope that somewhere in the world civilization had survived. but it was not to be. what happened with us in california must have happened with everybody everywhere.

“another day, and at niles there were three of us. beyond niles, in the middle of the highway, we found wathope. the motor car had broken down, and there, on the rugs which they had spread on the ground, lay the bodies of his sister, his mother, and himself.

“wearied by the unusual exercise of continual walking, that night i slept heavily. in the morning i was alone in the world. canfield and parsons, my last companions, were dead of the plague. of the four hundred that sought shelter in the chemistry building, and of the forty-seven that began the march, i alone remained—i and the shetland pony. why this should be so there is no explaining. i did not catch the plague, that is all. i was immune. i was merely the one lucky man in a million—just as every survivor was one in a million, or, rather, in several millions, for the proportion was at least that.”