Dan only grunted. He had been at work during the past few minutes, and was rolling himself over and over on the floor.
“My gracious!” exclaimed his brother, “do you expect one part of this hard floor is any better than another?”
Dan made no reply. Billy and the dummy watched him. Dan was gradually working himself near to the hearth.
The overturning of the forge with the live coals in it had done no harm, after the smoke had cleared away. There was nothing for the coals to set afire. But the heap of ash-covered coals was still hot underneath.
Dan was very well aware of this; yet Billy saw him rolling quite close to the embers. He called out:
“Look out, Dan! You’ll be burned!”
“Never mind yelling about it,” growled the older youth, between his set teeth.
He knew he had a peculiarly unpleasant job to perform; but Dan was just brave enough to do it. Once he had won a motorcycle race with flames eating into his leg while he covered the last lap—and he bore the scar of that yet.
He judged his distance well, gritted his teeth, and rolled close to the heap of embers. He could feel them scorching his back, while his tied wrists were right over the stirred embers.
At once a flame sprang up. There was the smell of scorching flesh. Billy, suddenly understanding what his brother was about, screamed aloud as though it were he who was being burned.