John climbed up first, opening the scuttle, and everybody lent a hand in lifting out the hose he had brought along. Barbara and Zerlina followed to the roof, which was steep and much broken by pinnacles and turrets; yet in contrast with the attic it was quite light outside, and the girls could see perfectly where to step without slipping.
Only two people were needed, it was decided. Bab would not hear of Ruth’s coming, on account of the latter’s horror of high places. It was certain that Mollie and Grace were not agile enough for the experiment, and Bab and Zerlina had already proved what they could do when they scaled the garage roof.
The three girls left behind climbed onto a balcony just outside one of the attic windows and watched, with tremulous interest, what was happening on the roof.
Thus Zerlina and Barbara, with old John, were left alone on top of Ten Eyck Hall. They had a wonderful view of the smoking forest, the tops of whose trees were waving in the steadily rising wind. The trench had, indeed, stopped the course of the flames which had run along the meadow hedges, and there were no more lines of fire to be seen; but there was a bright glow toward the back and a sound of crackling wood. Then came a burst of flames and the onlooker saw that the stable was burning. A spark lit on Bab’s wrist; another touched her on the cheek, and presently a gust of wind brought dozens of them twinkling like shooting stars at night. They fell on the shingled roof, smouldered for a moment and went out. Others followed. It could be only a matter of a little while, thought Bab, before the hall would be in flames if they were not prompt with the water.
“It’s all right, Miss,” called John’s voice from behind the tank on the part of the roof over the attic. There was a gurgling noise and a swift jet of water burst from the nozzle of the hose.
With Zerlina’s assistance, Bab began watering the roof. But the tallest peak was beyond reach of the hose. There the sparks were smouldering into life and Bab distinctly saw a a little puff of flame lick out and then go back again like a cunning animal biding its time.
Bab ran over to the tank.
“John,” she called, “get a ladder and a pail.”
Together they unhooked the ladder attached to the tank and dragged it over to the high center peak of the roof. There was a pail, also, which they filled with water. While the old man held the ladder Bab climbed up, taking the pail from Zerlina. Several times the brave girl dashed water over the smoking shingles until every spark was dead. Then, standing on one foot, on the top rung of the ladder, Bab braced herself with a lightning rod running up the side of the turret, and leaned over to see if all were well on its other section. Below her she could see the girls on the balcony peering up at her with frightened eyes. Lifting herself entirely off the ladder, for an instant, Bab glanced around the turret. In slipping back, her foot missed the rung. The shock made her lose her grip on the lightning rod, and like a flash she slid down the steepest part of the roof now slippery from its recent wetting. There was nothing to hold to, nothing to cling to, and she closed her eyes from the horror that was before her.