Sam and Poke, naturally enough, tried to drag Step back from his most unpleasant position; but the dog had braced himself, or the chain had caught on some obstruction, so that the only result of their endeavors was to pull Step’s knees from under him, drop him flat on his stomach, and leave him, if anything, rather more helpless than before. Moreover, the cook came hurrying from the kitchen and the hired man from the barn; and jumping to the conclusion that where there was so much smoke there surely must be fire, both dashed buckets of water with better intention than aim. Very little of the water passed through the lattice; a fair share of it spattered Sam and Poke, and a great deal drenched the unhappy Step.
The cook ran back to the kitchen for a fresh supply; but, luckily, the hired man, sighting the chain extending from Step’s wrist, laid hold upon it, and tugged with all his strength, and the dog, recognizing his voice, changed tactics, and charged from under the porch, bounding over the prostrate Step so swiftly that he turned a complete somersault, when the chain tautened again. The old lantern, still smoking voluminously, fell between boy and dog.
“Jee-rusalem!” gasped the hired man in bewilderment.
“Sa-sakes alive!” quavered the cook, who had reappeared with a freshly filled bucket.
Poke began to laugh hysterically; but Sam kept his wits. He caught the bucket from the woman’s hand, and plunged the lantern into the water. There was a long, hissing sound, a final puff of steam—and then comparative peace.
Step sat up. The dog, trembling like a leaf and whining weakly, crawled to the hired man. From the vantage ground of the porch the cook spoke wonderingly and reprovingly:
“Well, I vum, but you boys do beat my time! What on earth do you think you’re up to? Playin’ horse with poor Hector there?”
“No—not a bit; ’twasn’t that at all!” protested Step.
The cook sniffed. “Feathers—burnin’ feathers! I can tell ’em every time! But what’s your notion in puttin’ ’em in that thing?” And she pointed at the ancient lantern.
Step got upon his feet. He fumbled at the chain at his wrist; and, by an irony of fate, the old catch now gave at a touch. Step rubbed the flesh into which the links had sunk. He tried to summon a propitiating smile.