Ticktock and Jim

by Keith Robertson

Mr. Meadows had completed the building of a new brooder house during the day. The scraps of lumber, together with other refuse, had been dumped in the incinerator and burned. The fire had been inspected just before dark when everything had appeared to be burned with the exception of a few small smoking embers. Unfortunately, the inspection had not been thorough enough for there were a number of pieces of tar paper roofing in the back of the incinerator. They smoldered harmlessly for several hours until the night breeze shifted. Suddenly they burst into flame and burned as only tar paper can burn. A shower of sparks went up into the night.

Straw collects in every barnyard and the Meadows’ yard was no exception. There had been no rain for over a week; so the wisps of straw lying around were ripe for burning. The wind had deposited a small pile of loose straw against a lean-to which was built onto one end of the barn. A spark landed in this pile and in a few minutes the straw was burning merrily while the wind whipped the flames against the dry boards of the lean-to, filling the interior with smoke. Since this shed joined one end of the barn, smoke began to filter through the cracks into Ticktock’s stall. The fire was just catching the shed when the horse had awakened with his start of alarm.

Ticktock had been around many campfires with Jim, but he had always been free to move a respectful distance away and to stand clear of the smoke. This was a different situation, which was not at all to his liking. As the smoke grew thicker he decided something was amiss. He snorted and jerked his head as the acrid fumes began to tickle his nostrils and smart his eyes. By twisting his neck he could see bright tongues of flame through the cracks in the wall and he was inspired with fresh terror. The smoke grew thicker until it interfered with his breathing. He moved around as much as he was able in his confined stall, growing more frightened each minute. He decided it was time to leave.

The pony tried backing out of his stall, but he came to the end of his halter rope in a few feet. He pulled until his neck ached but still the rope held. Then he moved forward until there was a small amount of slack in the tether. He gave a violent toss of his head. There was a painful wrench as the rope snapped taut. This method was no more successful than the first, but there seemed no other course but to try again. The smoke was growing thicker and there was no time to lose. The frightened pony gave several more violent tugs until finally, after one particularly desperate yank, the rope snapped. As he backed from the stall, Ticktock could hear the uneasy stirrings of the other horses and cattle, who although farther from the fire than he, were now awake and becoming frightened too.

Freeing himself from the halter rope was only half the battle, for he still had to get out of the barn. The door which was almost directly back of his stall was the usual double barn door. The stock had been put in the barn because it had looked very much like rain. However, the upper halves of the doors had been left open, so that it wouldn’t become too hot inside. Ticktock stuck his muzzle over the lower half to breathe gratefully the fresh night air. A few deep breaths restored his energy enough and calmed him sufficiently for him to consider the remainder of his problem. There was not room enough to try to jump over the closed part of the door. After surveying the situation appraisingly, the little mustang turned around until his back feet were pointing toward the opening. His motto had always been, “When in doubt—kick.” With no hesitation he went into action. Kicking was one of his major accomplishments; so three hefty blows were enough to break the door open. If a horse can give a sigh of relief, he gave one when he bolted into the open barnyard. Perhaps it was just a huge gulp of fresh air but it sounded like a sigh of relief.

Once outside, Ticktock could see the burning shed clearly. He trotted to the other side of the yard where he was in safety and then turned to look over the situation again. It was only a matter of time until the barn proper was on fire, trapping all the animals in it. He could hear the movements of these animals who were rapidly growing frantic. Although he personally was out of danger, Ticktock knew that something terrible was happening. His own feelings when he had been in the barn were still fresh enough in his mind to make him nervous. He thought the matter over. That blazing shed was wrong. It didn’t fit into the proper scheme of things around the farm. When anything was wrong, Ticktock had only one thought—to go to Jim. Jim could solve everything. The mustang trotted toward the fence separating the barnyard from the grounds around the house. It was a formidably high board fence, higher than any he had ever tried. Doubtfully he trotted back across the yard, knowing the sensible thing to do was to keep away from the fire and forget that high fence. The noise made by the trapped animals grew louder and more panicky. There was a feeling of terrible urgency that told him he should go to Jim. Dismissing his doubts, he started running toward the fence.

The little horse made a magnificent leap, but the fence was too high for him. His front legs cleared but his hind legs were a few sickening inches short. His hooves hit the top of the boards with a resounding thud that threw him off balance. He got over the fence but landed wrong. He felt a terrible pain in his right foreleg as it crumpled beneath him. The night was split with the heartbreaking scream of a horse in agony.

Jim sat bolt upright in bed at Ticktock’s first scream, alarmed and confused. When the terrible piercing sound was repeated, he leaped out of bed and tore down the hall, shouting as he went.

“Dad! Mom! The horses! Something’s happened to one of them!” He did not say “Ticktock,” as the idea that the shrieking horse could be his beloved pony was too terrible to admit, even to himself. He was filled with hideous misgivings, though, as he raced down the stairs. When he opened the front door he saw the fire.