“Gale,” Phyllis said urgently, “there is a fire alarm attached to Carver Hall. Sound it! Tell the Dean——”
“Right!” Gale said promptly, not waiting to hear any more, and sped away.
Phyllis ran forward. “Are you all right?” she demanded of the man.
“The smoke——” he choked.
A frightened whinny from the stables brought Phyllis up short. The poor trapped horses! She couldn’t stand there and do nothing!
“Get the fire apparatus working!” she shouted and dashed for the stables. Madly she dashed back again. “Got a knife?” she asked the groom.
Dazed from the smoke and the sudden confusion, where an hour ago had been peace, the man nodded his head and struggled to get a pen knife from his pocket. Once it was secured Phyllis dashed again to the nearest stall. The horses were trampling, rearing, whinnying in fright. The smoke was thick and it was impossible to breathe freely.
Phyllis was hurled against the side of the stall as the horse rose on his hind legs pawing the air wildly with his forehoofs, straining at the rope which tied his bridle to the stall. She picked herself up from the straw mumbling unintelligible things when she discovered she had dropped the knife. Her fingers found the rope but it was impossible under such conditions to untie the knot. Quite by accident, a lucky accident, her foot came in contact with the knife as she dodged another flying hoof. She picked it up and cut the rope. Pulling and coaxing she got the horse into the open air. She tied him securely to the hitching post where the girls were wont to dismount after their classes. It was a sufficient distance away from the burning stables to make him safe. It was absolutely necessary to tie him, although it wasted several precious minutes. Otherwise, with the queer trait of his breed, he would immediately have dashed back into the building.
Once more Phyllis returned to the stable. The groom had disappeared, probably in search of help and fire extinguishers. The uproar of the horses beat in her ears. Their frightened whinnies were even more pitiful than human cries might have been. The animals were so helpless! The second horse was led and tied to the post beside the first. She felt bruised where another flying forefoot had caught her off guard. The flames were roaring like a furnace now. The straw in the stables would be excellent food for the flames. Luckily the fire had started in the groom’s quarter and must work up through the harness room. If it had started in the heart of the stables themselves she would never have been able to get near the horses.
One by one Phyllis brought the horses out. When the last one was secure she leaned weakly against the post. The alarm bell was tolling now. It had been ringing for several minutes but in her absorption she had not heard it. Soon the girls would be on the scene and the fire apparatus would be in play. Phyllis felt as if she would never again get the smell of smoke out of her system.