CHAPTER XVI.
DAB KINZER AND HAM MORRIS TURN INTO A FIRE-DEPARTMENT.
The Morris farm, as has been said, was a pretty large one; and the sametendency on the part of its owners which led them to put up so extensiveand barn-like a house, had stimulated them from time to time to make themost liberal provisions for the storage of their crops. Barns were afamily weakness with them, as furniture had been with the Kinzers. Thefirst barn they had put up, now the oldest and the farthest from thehouse, had been a large one. It was now in a somewhat dilapidatedcondition, to be sure, and was bowed a little northerly by the weight ofyears that rested on it; but it had still some hope of future usefulnessif it had not been for that tramp and his box of matches.
"There isn't a bit of use in trying to save it!" exclaimed Ham, as theywere whirled in through the wide-open gate. "It's gone!"
"But, Ham," said Mrs. Kinzer, "we can save the other barns perhaps. Lookat the cinders falling on the long stable. If we could keep them offsomehow!"
"We can do it, Ham," exclaimed Dab, very earnestly. "Mother, will yousend me out a broom and a rope, while Ham and I set up the ladder?"
"You're the boy for me," said Ham. "I guess I know what you're up to."
The ladder was one the house-painters had been using, and was a prettyheavy one; but it was quickly set up against the largest and mostvaluable of the barns, and the one, too, which was nearest and mostexposed to the burning building and its flying cinders. The rope was onhand, and the broom, by the time the ladder was in position.
"Ford," said Dab, "you and Frank help the girls bring water, till themen from the village get here. There's plenty of pails, but every one ofour hands is away.--Now, Ham, I'm ready."
Up they went, and were quickly astride of the ridge of the roof. Itwould have been perilous work for any man to have ventured fartherunassisted; but Dab tied one end of the rope firmly around his waist,Ham tied himself to the other, and then Dab could slip down the steeproof, in any direction, without danger of slipping off to the groundbelow.
But the broom?
It was as useful as a small fire-engine. The flying cinders of burninghay or wood, as they alighted upon the sun-dried shingles of the roof,needed to be swept off as fast as they fell, before they had time tofulfil their errand of mischief. Here and there they had been at workfor some minutes, and the fresh little blazes they had kindled had sogood a start, that the broom alone would have been insufficient; andthere the rapidly-arriving pails of water came into capital play.
Ford Foster had never shone out to so good an advantage in all his lifebefore, as he did when he took his station on the upper rounds of thatladder, and risked his neck to hand water-pails to Ham. It was hardwork, all around, but hardest of all for the two "firemen" on the roof.Now and then the strength and agility of Ham Morris were put to prettysevere tests, as Dab danced around under the scorching heat, or slippedflat upon the sloping roof. It was well for Ham that he was a man ofweight and substance.
There were scores and scores of people streaming up from the villagenow, arriving in panting squads, every moment; and Mrs. Kinzer had allshe could do to keep them from "rescuing" every atom of her furnitureout of the house, and piling it up in the road.
"Wait, please," she said to them very calmly.
"If Ham and Dab save the long barn, the fire won't spread any farther.The old barn won't be any loss to speak of, anyhow."
Fiercely as the dry old barn burned, it used itself up all the quickeron that account; and it was less than thirty minutes from the time Hamand Dabney got at work before roof and rafters fell in, and the worst ofthe danger was over. The men and boys from the village were eager enoughto do any thing that now remained to be done; but a large share of thiswas confined to standing around and watching the "bonfire" burn down toa harmless heap of badly smelling ashes. As soon, however, as they wereno more wanted on the roof, the two "volunteer firemen" came down; andHam Morris's first word on reaching the ground was,--
"Dab, my boy, how you've grown!"
Not a tenth of an inch in mere stature, and yet Ham was entirely correctabout it.
He stared at Dabney for a moment; and then he turned, and stared atevery thing else. There was plenty of light just then, moon or no moon;and Ham's eyes were very busy for a full minute. He noted rapidly theimprovements in the fences, sheds, barns, the blinds on the house, thepaint, a host of small things that had changed for the better; and thenhe simply said, "Come on, Dab," and led the way into the house. Hermother and sisters had already given Miranda a hurried look at what theyhad done, but Ham was not the man to do any thing in haste. Deliberatelyand silently he walked from room to room, and from cellar to garret,hardly seeming to hear the frequent comments of his enthusiastic youngwife. That he did hear all that had been said around him as he went,however, was at last made manifest, for he said,--
"Dab, I've seen all the other rooms. Where's yours?"
"I'm going to let you and Miranda have my room," said Dab. "I don'tthink I shall board here long."
"I don't think you will either," said Ham emphatically. "You're goingaway to boarding-school. Miranda, is there any reason why Dab can't havethe south-west room, up stairs, with the bay-window?"
That room had been Samantha's choice, and she looked at Dabreproachfully; but Miranda replied,--
"No, indeed. Not if you wish him to have it."
"Now, Ham," said Dabney, "I'm not big enough to fit that room. Give meone nearer my size. That's a little loose for even Sam, and she can'ttake any tucks in it."
Samantha's look changed to one of gratitude, and she did not notice thedetested nickname.
"Well, then," said Ham, "we'll see about it. You can sleep in the sparechamber to-night.--Mother Kinzer, I couldn't say enough about this housebusiness if I talked all night. It must have cost you a deal of money. Icouldn't have dared to ask it. I guess you must kiss me again."
A curious thing it was that came next,--one that nobody could havereckoned on. Mrs. Kinzer--good soul--had set her heart on having Ham andMiranda's house "ready for them" on their return; and now Ham seemed tobe so pleased about it, she actually began to cry. She said, too,--
"I'm so sorry about the barn!"
Ham only laughed, in his quiet way, as he kissed his portlymother-in-law, and said,--
"Come, come, mother Kinzer, you didn't set it afire. Can't Miranda and Ihave some supper? Dab must be hungry, too, after all thatroof-sweeping."
There had been a sharp strain on the nerves of all of them that day andevening; and they were glad enough to gather around the tea-table, whileall that was now left of the old barn smouldered peaceably away withhalf the boys in the village on guard.
Once or twice Ham or Dab went out to see that all was dying out rightly;but it was plain that all the danger was over, unless a high wind shouldcome to scatter the cinders.
By this time the whole village had heard of Dab's adventure with thetramp, and had at once connected the latter with the fire. There werethose, indeed, who expressed a savage wish to connect him with itbodily; and it was well for him that he had done his running awaypromptly, and had hidden himself with care, for men were out after himin all directions, on foot and on horseback. Who would have dreamed ofso dirty a vagabond "taking to the water"?
"He's a splendid fellow, anyway!"
Odd, was it not? but Annie Foster and Jenny Walters were half a mileapart when they both said that very thing, just before the clock in thevillage church hammered out the news that it was ten, and bedtime. Theywere not either of them speaking of the tramp.
It was long after that, however, before the lights were out in all therooms of the Morris mansion.