Finkler's Field: A Story of School and Baseball

by Ralph Henry Barbour

The axe got to work again and then Mr. Talcott, followed by nearly a dozen boys, crept through. The stalls were arranged in two rows across the width of the big building. Between them was a space some twelve feet wide. The horses were in a panic, snorting with fear, tugging at their halters and plunging from side to side in the stalls.

“Keep out of the way of hoofs, boys!” sang out Mr. Talcott as he groped his way to the door at the front. The acrid smoke was less thick here, but it was bad enough, and it got into their eyes and throats until they wept and choked. Outside they could hear the roar and crackle of the flames and inside the heat was becoming almost unbearable. Mr. Talcott reached the door and once more the axe swung. About him the boys clustered, holding arms before their faces or wiping their eyes of the tears that streamed out. Suddenly there was a flash of red light as the door gave and the next moment Mr. Talcott had thrown it wide open, retreating quickly before the blast of heat that entered.

“Now for the horses!” he shouted. “Climb over the sides from stall to stall. If you have knives, cut the halters and drive them out. Phillips, you stand here and hustle them along. But look out for hoofs. Now then, quick’s the word, boys!”

With a cheer they began their work. Most of the fellows had knives in their pockets and as fast as a halter rope was slashed the halter was seized and the horse was forced out into the runway. It was wild work, for the poor animals, maddened by fright, refused in some cases to do anything but stand in the stalls and plunge about. In the midst of it there was a terrific crash overhead.

“There comes some of the roof,” said Mr. Talcott cheerfully. “Come on, fellows! Get busy! Get up, there! Out you go! Send him along, Phillips.”

Sam had found a pitchfork and with the handle of it he belabored the horses as they reached the corner. And it took plenty of urging to get them to face that glare and heat at the doorway. But, with Sam showing no mercy behind, they all went through, and in scarcely more time than it has taken to tell it the stalls were empty and Farmer Finkler’s horses were galloping off into the darkness.

“That’s all, sir!” shouted Jack from the end of the line of stalls.

“Good work! Come on now! Cover your faces, boys, and make a dash for it. There’s no use trying to get out where we came in. Ready? Now run!”

The heat smote them like a blow from some giant hand as with closed eyes and covered faces they dashed through the doorway, but they got out safely and reached the shelter of the trees across the driveway. Cheers from the others met them as they gained safety. And when from there they looked back at the barn they realized that they had left it none too soon, for it was in flames from end to end and the great crimson and orange tongues were leaping ten feet high along the ridge-pole. A sudden clanging of gongs sounded from down the drive and an engine, hose-cart and hook-and-ladder swung into view. At the same instant the carriage-house subsided in a wreck of charred and flaming timbers and the nearer end of the barn roof disappeared with a loud crash.

An hour later Maple Ridge went home to bed, if not to sleep. By that time the fire was under control. The carriage-house and barn were total losses, but the woodshed and residence were safe, as well as the water-tower and several smaller structures near it. As the boys trooped down the lane, their extinguishers in tow, the light from the fire followed them, casting grotesque shadows ahead. And above the jarring of the engine and the hiss of water came the incessant barking of Rowdy!