There were no buckets or pails to be found in the dwelling, as was speedily discovered when the doors were burst open. Near the kitchen door was the old well, which had been used in former generations. A well-sweep was there, but the heavy weight which had been used to balance the bucket was gone and it had been long since the water in the depths below had been disturbed. In desperation, however, the entire party sought to find some means of stopping the fire.
Some of the men who now had arrived started swiftly across the fields toward houses that could be seen in the distance. There was a vague thought that they might obtain pails and ropes that would enable them to quench the flames. By the time the men returned, however, the house was doomed.
Fascinated by the sight, the boys withdrew from the spot and watched the blazing dwelling as the flames leaped and roared and crackled.
“There goes the chimney!” exclaimed Fred in a low voice, as a pile of bricks fell crashing into the depths.
“I wonder what became of those chimney-swallows,” suggested John.
“I guess those that could fly are gone and those that were too young to fly are already burned,” said Grant.
“How do you suppose that fire started?” inquired George.
As no one had a ready solution his question remained unanswered. The boys now, however, were rejoined by Mr. Sanders, who explained that it was perilous as well as useless to attempt to fight the flames longer. The most that could be expected was to prevent the flying embers from setting fire to fences or to buildings that were not far away.
“It’s a pity,” said Mr. Sanders slowly, “that the old house had to go in this way.”
“And it never gave up all its secrets either,” added Fred. “We were just on the point of finding out, when the whole thing goes up in smoke.”