“That’s it! Hold him!” whooped Bob and Ned.
They left Dorothy behind as they clambered up the rough hillside. The staggering Daggett put forth the last ounce of his faint strength. He rose up, threw off the two smaller boys, and started on.
And just then a new actor appeared in the field—and a most astonishing one. A yell of fright sounded, and there sprang out of the fodder stack—seemingly from the very heart of the fire—a figure wreathed by smoke and sparks. Indeed, the man’s clothing was afire at several points.
But most striking of all, his hair was the reddest of the red, and his freckles stood out prominently on the background of his pale skin.
“Fire! Fire,” he roared. “Who’s tr-ryin’ to burn me up? Wow! is that you, Poke Daggett?”
He whirled right into the flying Daggett’s arms. He had been trying to beat out the sparks upon his clothing, and as he collided with Poke, the two went to the ground.
“It—it’s that redhead!” gasped Tavia. “Oh, it’s surely Tom Moran!”
Joe and Johnny—and even little Roger Dale—ran to assist in putting out the fire in the red-haired man’s clothing. Poke Daggett rose and tried to drag himself away.
But Ned and Bob arrived, and the former ordered young Daggett to stop. “We’ve got a bone to pick with you, you white-haired rascal. Wait! Isn’t your name Moran?” he asked of the man who had been afire.
“I don’t know—they woke me up so quick,” returned the red-headed one, with a grin. “However did these kids set the fodder afire? Somebody will have to pay Simeon Rouse for it.”