n his pocket for a cigarette and shakily lighted it.

Hetty peered out over the yard and then looking up, gasped. Perched
like a rakish derby hat on the arm of the towering pump windmill was
the slop cauldron. "Well I'll be...." Hetty Thompson said.

"You sure you didn't pour gas on that fire to make it burn faster,
Barney Hatfield?" she barked at the handy man.

"No siree," Barney declaimed loudly, "there weren't no gas anywhere
near that fire. Only thing I poured out was that there bad milk." He
paused and scratched his head. "Reckon that funny milk coulda done
that, Miz Thompson? There ain't no gas made what'll blow up nor burn so
funny as that did."

Hetty snorted. "Whoever heard of milk blowing up, you old idiot?" A
look of doubt spread. "You put all that milk in there?"

"No'm, just the one bucket." Barney pointed to the other pail beside
the kitchen door, now half-empty and standing in a pool of liquid
sloshed out by the blast wave. Hetty studied the milk pail for a minute
and then resolutely picked it up and walked out into the yard.

"Only one way to find out," she said. "Get me a tin can, Barney."

She poured about two tablespoons of the milk into the bottom of the can
while Barney collected a small pile of kindling. Removing the milk pail
to a safe distance, Hetty lighted the little pile of kindling, set the
tin can atop the burning wood and scooted several yards away to join
Barney who had been watching from afar. In less than a minute a booming
_whoosh_ sent a miniature column of purple, gaseous flame spouting
from the can. "Well whadda you know about that?" Hetty exclaimed
wonderingly.

The can had flown off the fire a few feet but didn't explode. Hetty
went back to the milk pail and collecting less than a teaspoon full in
the water dipper, walked to the fire. Standing as far back as she could
and still reach over the flames, she carefully sprinkled a few drops of
the liquid directly into the fire and then jumped back. Miniature balls
of purple flame erupted from the fire before she could move. Pieces of
flaming kindling flew in all directions and one slammed Barney across
the back of the neck and sent a shower of sparks down his back.

The handy man let out a yowl of pain and leaped for the watering trough
beside the corral, smoke trailing behind him. Hetty thoughtfully
surveyed the scene of her experiment from beneath raised eyebrows. Then
she grunted with satisfaction, picked up the remaining m