CHAPTER III
TALKING IT OVER
What had happened was this. There was loose hay and straw in the upperpart of the barn. The flames, eating up and along the roof, had burnedinto this, until the whole mass was ablaze.
Then, as the upper part of the side of the barn, above the big opendoors, was burned through, the burning hay and straw began fallinginto the cowyard. Right down it fell, like a cataract of fire.
It made a pile in the muck of the cow-yard, whence the men had led thehorses, wheeled out the mowing machine and carriage, and removed thebaled hay and straw.
At first the blazing wisps were extinguished, as the cow-yard was wet,but, as more and more of the hay and straw fell, there gradually grewa pile of blazing hot embers. But, worse than all, was the curtain offire that shut off escape by the big doors.
"What are we going to do?" asked Vincent, his face white with fear.
"We are up against it," replied Bert, speaking more calmly than wouldhave been possible for most lads. But Herbert Dare was unusuallycool-headed, a fact which later stood him in good service.
"Maybe the stairs are safe now," suggested Vincent.
It needed but a look at them to show that they were almost burnedaway.
"No escape there," decided Bert.
"Isn't there an end door?"
"One, up in the loft, but it's thirty feet from the ground and that'stoo much of a jump. Besides, we can't get into the loft now. It's amass of flames."
"Then we've got to jump through the big doors and take our chanceswith the fire!" declared Vincent.
"Wait a minute," advised Bert.
He looked about him, seeking some means of escape. It would bedangerous to try to leap through the doors. They would fall into amass of burning straw, which would scar them terribly, as would alsothe falling cataract of ignited wisps. Yet there was no other way.
Then a daring idea came to Bert. He remembered reading about a man whoonce escaped in a similar manner from a burning barn.
"Grab up a horse blanket!" he called to Vincent. There were severalscattered about the barn, and they were of heavy wool.
"I've got one," shouted Vincent. At the same time Bert found a largeone.
"Dip it in water," was the next command.
In one corner of the barn, near the horse stalls, there was a pump, atwhich were filled the pails to water the horses when they were in thebarn. There was water in one pail now.
Bert dipped his blanket in, and drew it out dripping wet. But the woolhad absorbed most of the water, and there was only a little more leftin the pail.
"Here, wrap this about you, and jump!" cried Herbert, passing the wetblanket to his chum, and taking the dry one from him.
"What will you do?"
"Never mind about me! I'll pump some more water. You jump, before it'stoo late!"
Outside could be heard confused shouting. It was the crowd, calling tothe boys to hasten, as the roof was about to fall in. There wereanxious eyes waiting for the reappearance of the two young heroes.
"Jump! Jump through the big doors!" yelled Bert, helping Vincent towrap the blanket about his body, and fairly shoving him toward theonly available avenue of escape. "Jump! It will be too late in anotherminute!"
Above the crackle of the flames could be heard men yelling:
"Come on, boys! Come on! The roof's going!"
With a look at his chum, Vincent pulled the blanket more closely abouthim, leaving only a small opening near his face through which he couldlook. Then he ran to the big doors.
Bert stuffed his blanket into the pail, in the bottom of which was alittle water. Then he began to work the pump to get more.
He gave one glance, saw his chum leap through the big opening, withthe curtain of fire, and then, murmuring a hope that he was safe, hebegan to work the pump-handle. To his horror no water came. The firehad eaten down into the cow stable, and melted the pipe that ran fromthe pump to the cistern. No water was available to wet his blanket, onwhich he depended to save himself from the flames.
"Bert! Bert! Come on! Jump!" he heard some one call.
He caught up his blanket It was merely damp.
"It's got to do!" he murmured. "I'll be scorched, I'm afraid, butthere's no help for it! Here goes!"
Wrapping the covering about him, he dashed across the barn floor. Itwas ablaze in several places under his feet. The cataract of fire wasnow fiercer than ever over the opening of the big doors. Holding theblanket to protect his head, he took a running start, and jumped.
Straight through the big opening he went, and he heard a confusedcheer and shout as he appeared. He felt the hot breath of the fire allabout him. He smelled the scorching wool, the burning straw and hay.His nose and mouth seemed full of cinders. He felt himself fallingdown, down, down. He tried to keep himself upright, that he might landon his feet, but, in spite of himself, he felt that he was turning onhis back. He twisted and squirmed, as does a diver who wants to cleavethe water cleanly. Oh, how Bert wished he was diving into the oldswimming hole, instead of into a fiery mass of straw and hay!
He landed on the ground in a crouching position. He seemed to besmothering in a mass of black cinders that rose up in a feathery cloudall about him. He could hardly breathe.
Then he felt some one grab him--several hands began carrying himforward. An instant later his blanket was unwrapped from his head, andhe found himself in the midst of a crowd of men and boys.
"Look out! The blanket's afire!" some one called, and ConstableStickler kicked the burning mass of wool to one side.
Suddenly there was a great crash, and the roof of the barn toppled in.A great shower of sparks arose, and there was a dense cloud of smoke.Then the flames seemed to die down, for there was little left for themto feed on.
"You got out just in time," said Vincent, coming up to Bert, andgrasping him by the hand. "Did you get burned any?"
"Just a bit; on one hand. I had to leave it out to hold the edges ofthe blanket together. How about you?"
"Not a scorch, but I'm wet through from the blanket. It saved me,though."
"The pump wouldn't work," explained Bert. "But come on, let's get outof this. I'm standing in mud up to my knees. Why, the pile of burningstraw and hay that was down here seems to be out."
"Yes. I yelled to the bucket brigade that they'd better use the wateron this, instead of throwing it against the sides of the barn, whereit wasn't doing any good. So they did, and they kept a good deal ofthe fire down, so's you'd have a good place to land in."
"I owe that to you, Vincent."
"And I owe my wet blanket to you, so we're even. But let's get on dryground."
The cow-yard, with the natural wetness that always existed there, towhich had been added many gallons of fluid from the bucket brigade,was now a miniature swamp.
The boys, followed by an admiring throng, made their way to the frontof the barn. All work at attempting to save it had now ceased. Nothingmore could be done, and, as all the cattle and horses had been saved,as well as some of the wagons and machinery, it might be said that allthat was possible had been accomplished.
"Got to let her burn now," said the constable. "How'd it start, Mr.Stimson?"
"Tramps must have sot it, I guess. Fust I knowed I woke up, an' seeth' blaze. Then I sent my boy Tom out to yell."
"Yes, I heard him," replied the constable. "He yelled good and proper.I got right after the bucket brigade."
"That's what you did."
"Well, the bucket brigade might as well have stayed in bed for all thegood it did," remarked Cole Bishop, who had recovered his usualcalmness. "You'd ought to had a couple of force-pumps like mine."
"Oh, you boys clear out," advised the constable. "First thing you knowyou'll git hurt."
"Huh! I guess if it hadn't been for some of us boys, there'd be abigger loss than there is," retorted Cole.
"That's so," agreed Mr. Stimson. "Bert and Vincent saved me severalhundred dollars by getting out them horses."
; "Any of 'em hurt?"
"The bay mare's a little lame, from jumpin', an' the roan gelding isscratched on the fore quarter. But, land! that's nothin'. They'll beall right in a day or two."
"Pretty heavy loss, ain't it, neighbor Stimson?" asked Mr. PeterAppelby, who lived next to the man whose barn was now but a mass ofglowing embers.
"Yes, 'tis, but I got insurance. I'm glad it wasn't the house."
"Guess you kin be. Land! but it did go quick! I never see such afierce fire. I sure thought them two boys would be burned to death,"remarked Nate Jackford, another neighbor.
"So did I," admitted Mr. Stimson. "It's been a terrible night."
"But it might have been worse."
"That's so."
There was nothing more that could be done. The horses and cows weretaken in charge by several neighbors, who agreed to keep them untilMr. Stimson could build a temporary barn. Then, as there was littlemore to see, for the barn was now completely consumed, the crowd begandispersing.
"Lakeville ought to have a fire department," said Bert, as he walkedhome with his chums.
"Yep. They need some force-pumps like mine," agreed Cole. "I got ahose rigged up on it, an' if our house got afire, I could put it outas easy as pie."
"Yes, it's a good pump of yours," admitted Vincent, "but what we needhere is a regular pumping engine, and some lines of hose. If we'd had'em to-night we might have saved the barn."
"The Selectmen of Lakeville are too stingy to appropriate any moneyfor a fire department," said Bert. "I remember once, years ago, whenmy father was alive, he proposed it, but nothing ever came of it."
"This is a miserly town, anyhow," added Cole. "They never have anyFourth of July celebration."
"That's right," agreed his chums.
Little was talked of in the village the next day but the fire at thebarn. Bert and Vincent were praised on all sides, and when Bertappeared in the streets, with one hand bandaged up, where it had beenslightly burned, he was congratulated by nearly every one who met him,until he blushed like a girl.
"If Constable Stickler had given the alarm a little earlier, so's thebucket brigade could have got there quicker, we could have saved thebarn," said Moses Sagger, the owner of the only butcher shop in town.He was a member of the brigade.
"That bucket brigade could never have put out that fire, Moses," saidPeter Appelby. "There wasn't water enough."
"Yes, there was. Didn't we put out the fire at Sim Rockford's, oneday, about two years ago?"
"Yes, but that was only his henhouse, when his wife put a charcoalfire in it to keep the hens warm so's they'd lay more. That wasn'tmuch of a blaze. Besides, it was in the daytime, and we had the brookto get water from."
"Well, the bucket brigade's good enough for Lakeville," declared thebutcher. "What's the use of talking? I've seen it do good work."
"Well, maybe once in a while. But it can't handle a big fire. We needa regular department, that's what we do."
"What, and increase the taxes to pay for it? I guess not much!"exclaimed Mr. Sagger. "I pay too high taxes now. The bucket brigade isgood enough."
"That's the kind of men that keeps Lakeville from growing," thoughtMr. Appelby, as he walked off. "He's too miserly to want to pay a fewdollars extra each year to support a regular fire department. Butwe'll have to have one some day."
That day was nearer than Mr. Appelby supposed.