“Yes, my lads; out with you!”
“Try once more, father,” said Dick. “The poor old horses!”
“Yes, but run!” cried the squire. “I must run too. Off!”
There was a rush made through the burning mass fallen from the roof; and, scorched and half-blind, they reached the door half-blocked by the anxious men.
“Safe!” cried the farmer. “Here: where’s squire?”
As the words left his mouth there was a fierce snorting and trampling, and those at the door had only just time to draw back, as the two horses dashed frantically out, and then tore off at full gallop across the yard.
“Winthorpe!” cried Farmer Tallington. “This way!”
“Father!” cried Dick in an agonised voice, following the farmer into the burning building; but only to be literally carried out by his companion, as they were driven back by a tremendous gush of burning thatch and wood which roared out of the great doorway consequent upon a mass of the roof falling in.
As soon as he could recover himself, Dick turned to rush in again; but he was checked by Hickathrift.
“Stand back, bairn! art mad?” he cried. “Not that way.”