CHAPTER XVI.
The Morris farm, as has been said, was a pretty large one, and the same tendency on the part of the owners which had made them set up so very extensive and barn-like a house, had led them, from time to time, to provide the most liberal sort of storage for their crops. The first barn they had ever built, which was now the oldest and the furthest from the stables and the residence, was a pretty large one. It was now in a somewhat dilapidated condition, to be sure, and bowed a little northerly by the weight of years which rested on it, but it had still some hope of future usefulness, if it had not been for that tramp and his box of matches.
"There isn't a bit of use in trying to save it," exclaimed Ham, as they were whirled in through the wide gate. "It's gone."
"But," said Mrs. Kinzer, "we can save the other barns, perhaps. Look at the cinders on the long stable. If we could only keep them off somehow."
"We can do it, Ham!" exclaimed Dab, very earnestly. "Mother, will you send me out a broom and a rope, while Ham and I set up the ladder?"
"You're the boy for me," said Ham. "I guess I know what you're up to."
The ladder was one the house painters had been using, and was a pretty heavy one, but it was quickly set up against the largest and most valuable of the barns, and the one, too, which was nearest and most exposed to the burning building and its flying cinders. The rope was on hand, and the broom, by the time the ladder was in position.
"Ford," said Dab, "you and Frank help the girls bring water till the men from the village get here. There's plenty of pails. Now, Ham, I'm ready."
Up they went, and were quickly astride the ridge of the roof. It would have been perilous work for any man to have ventured further unassisted, but Dab tied one end of the rope firmly around his waist, Ham Morris tied himself to the other, and then Dab could slip down the steep roof in any direction without fear of falling.