To remove the horses, however, was more of a problem, for the main door to the stable floor was at the corner next to the burning carriage house and the flames rendered entrance there well-nigh impossible. Had the big swinging door been open, or even unlocked, it would have been possible to dash through, but it was secured with a padlock and no one could have stayed there long enough to use the key. So far, however, Mr. Talcott’s fire brigade had kept the barn from catching, and if the engines from Charlemont arrived soon it was probable that the big building could be saved. But the chemical extinguishers were soon exhausted and only the hose was left. As by that time the woodshed roof was pretty well wet down, Mr. Talcott ordered some of the boys to the high sloping roof of the stable. It was risky work, but there were plenty of volunteers, and the big ladder was placed against the side of the barn and half a dozen boys swarmed up it. A new bucket line was formed and the red pails were passed from hand to hand up the ladder and along the sloping roof and the water was thrown on the smoking shingles. Luckily most of the boys wore rubber-soled “sneakers,” which helped them to keep their feet. Detailing a number of boys to keep watch on the woodshed and the house, Mr. Talcott found Mr. Finkler.
“This is most unfortunate, sir,” he said. “But I think we can keep things safe until the fire department arrives. At least, I don’t think you need worry about the house, Mr. Finkler.”
“The house!” shouted the farmer. “Let it go! It’s the barn we’ve got to save, sir! I’ve got nineteen horses in there, some of the finest horses in this state, sir! Why don’t those engines come?”
“They must get here pretty soon now,” answered Mr. Talcott. “Meanwhile I think we can hold our own. That small building will burn itself out pretty soon.” He shielded his eyes from the heat and glare and looked toward it. “The second floor is about ready to tumble in now. Don’t you think, however, it would be best to get your horses out of the barn?”
“I would if I knew a way,” cried the farmer. “But that’s the only door except the hay door at the other end, and Joe has the key, and he’s away to-night. And if we break open the hay door we can’t get the horses out there. There’s a wall between.”
“This door here is locked?”
“Tight. Here’s the key.” Mr. Finkler opened his hand and displayed it. “I tried to get to it, but the heat beat me back.”
“Yes, that’s out of the question. Even if it was open I doubt if any one could get in now. I’ll have a look at the other door you speak of. You have axes handy?”
“Will’s got one. The others are in the barn.”