Down we went into the fine and suffocating dust. Here and there the sheep and the hogs had dug deep beds in their restlessness, when nights had been cold, but in places the floor was so close to the ground that I could scarcely crawl through. We heard one end of the roof fall in, and then a volley was fired from the woods.
"What did I tell you?" said Alf. "We understand their tactics, any way. Don't believe you can get through here, Bill. Wait, I can dig down this lump with my gun. Wish I had a hatchet. Ever notice how handy a hatchet is?"
"For God's sake, let me get at it, Alf. I can feel the heat. The whole thing will fall down on us in a minute. That'll do; I can squeeze through."
Alf crawled into one of the deep beds and reached back to help pull me through. "Bill, looks like this place was made for you, only I wish they had made it a trifle bigger. Once more."
And there I struggled and there he pulled. "I am gone, Alf; I can't get out. Save yourself if you can."
"If you can't get out I know you are not gone, Bill," he replied with a laugh, but it was a laugh of despair rather than of merriment. "Don't give up. Once more. You are coming. What did I tell you?" And again he laughed, but not in despair. We were now at the wall, at the very hole through which the sheep were wont to come in. "You first, this time, Bill. Sheer off to the left. The bushes are not more than fifteen feet away."
With but little difficulty I squeezed through the opening. And now I was in a hot and dazzling glare. A breeze had sprung up with the flames, and behind me was a roar, and a crash of the falling beams. I looked not about me, but straight ahead toward the thicket, now waving as if swept by a strong wind; and within a minute after reaching the outer air I was crawling through a thick clump of blackberry briars, with Alf close upon my heels. We soon came upon a sheep-walk covered with briars, and now we could make faster time. The Aimes boys were still firing into the burning house, and it was evident that they had not discovered our escape.
"We can walk now," Alf whispered. "Turn down here to the right and keep the shumac bushes between us and them. Now we are all right."
Not another word was spoken until we had reached a knoll, some distance away. Then we halted and looked back. And now the old house was but a blazing heap. Alf was peeping about through the trees, and suddenly his gaze was set. He cocked his gun and brought it to his shoulder.
"No," I said. "You will only regret it." I grasped the gun and both hammers fell upon my hand. "Get back!" he commanded.