"Have you any more pails?" yelled Jack into the farmer's ear.
"I don't know. Don't bother me! Look in the barn! Oh what a calamity!" was the answer. "If I get holt of th' rask'l———" and then the farmer rushed off to grab a bucket from a staggering lad, who was advancing with it. Mr. Appleby slipped in the mud, and went down, spilling the precious fluid.
"Jupiter's crab apples!" he cried. "What d' ye mean by that, Hank
Norton? Butterfingers!"
"You spilled it! I didn't!" snapped the lad.
"All right, git more! Oh, what a fire! My barns'll go, sure!" and the distracted man rushed about not knowing what to do.
"He's half crazy," decided Tom. "He'll never get the fire out in the world acting that way. And if the wind shifts the blaze will blow right toward the barns."
This was evident. Two large stacks of hay, for which there had been no room in the barn, stood in the farmyard not far from the big buildings that contained the farm products, horses and machinery. Both stacks were afire in several places, but as there was only a slight wind the flames went almost straight up, inclining away from the buildings. But it would need only a slight shift of the wind to cause much damage.
"What's to be done?" asked Jack.
"Get the horses out first," decided Tom. "That is if they're not out already. Let's have a look." Now that he was on the scene, even his feeling against the old farmer would not allow him to stand idly by and see property destroyed.
"That's the way to talk!" cried Bert. "Let's save the horses."