He could see that he would be met with considerable of that smothering smoke the instant he stepped past the open door of the burning barn. That was why he commenced to tear off his coat as he ran. Frank wrapped his coat about his head in the endeavor to protect his mouth, eyes, and nostrils as much as possible.
He knew the die had been cast as soon as he entered the place, since his retreat was cut off by a fresh burst of scorching flames and all he could do was to make his way forward.
From time to time he called at the top of his voice, but was staggered to find what a small amount of noise he could make, owing to the pungent smoke of the burning hay and straw.
The covering his head gave him some relief at first; but in a very short time he found his eyes smarting fearfully and tears helping to blind his vision.
Groping his way and trying as best he could to avoid those places where the hay was fully in the grip of the fire, Frank presently found himself falling.
The boy did not know what sort of a hole he had incautiously stepped into, for he had taken but a cursory view of the inside of the old barn during his sole visit there. Throwing out both hands, he sought to find some support, so as to stop the sickening downward movement. He came to a halt with a thump, one of his feet becoming fast between two upright timbers.
His situation was now much more desperate than before, since, try as he did, he seemed utterly unable to get his foot free from that clutch of the V-shaped timbers. It was as though he had become enmeshed in the tentacles of some unseen monster, which, gifted with enormous powers, was bent on holding him there a prisoner until the oncoming flames reached the spot.