"No, it won't. I have thought a great deal about the animals, and it goes right against my grain to hurt them, especially the horses."
"I don't want to burn the barn, any way."
"You are a coward and a fool, Sandy."
"It's easy enough for you to say so, when you know your father has money enough to buy up Old Batterbones, if we get into any scrape."
"Come, no more whining, Sandy; I'm going to get the horses and oxen out, and then I'm going to burn the barn."
"I'm off, then."
"Very good; but if I get into trouble, I will blow on you."
This consideration staggered Sandy, and he concluded to stay and see the end of the wicked enterprise. The house of Mr. Batterman was at a considerable distance from the barn, and there was but little danger that the humane policy of the young incendiaries would expose them to any additional peril.
Richard, followed by Sandy, entered the barn, and turned all the animals loose. They drove them into a lot where they could not get near the fire. The only thing that had weighed upon the mind of the broker's son, in the prosecution of his mad enterprise, was now removed, and he returned to the place where he had prepared the materials for starting the conflagration. Again Sandy stated his objections, and urged Richard to abandon the scheme; but the latter, without any reply to this remonstrance, drew a card of matches across a stone, and applied the burning mass to the hay which had been saturated with turpentine.
The heap of combustible matter suddenly blazed up, lighting all the fields around them. The work had been surely done, and it was too late for Sandy to urge any more of his objections.