tried to drag the old horse clear of his stall,
and twice had he fallen back for fresh air. Then came a smothered cry
from inside the blinding smoke, a burst of flame lighting up the stable,
and the Big Gray was pushed out, his head wrapped in Carl's coat, the
Swede pressing behind, Cully coaxing him on, his arms around the horse's
neck.

Hardly had the Big Gray cleared the stable when the roof of the small
extension fell, and a great burst of flame shot up into the night air.
All hope of rescuing the other two horses was now gone.

Tom did not stand long dazed and bewildered. In a twinkling she had
drawn on a pair of men's boots over her bare feet, buckled her ulster
over her night-dress, and rushed back upstairs to drag the blankets from
the beds. Laden with these she sprang down the steps, called to Jennie
to follow, soaked the bedding in the water-trough, and, picking up the
dripping mass, carried it to Carl and Cully, who, now that the Gray was
safely tied to the kitchen porch, were on the roof of the tool-house,
fighting the sparks that fell on the shingles.

By this time the neighbors began to arrive from the tenements. Tom took
charge of every man as soon as he got his breath, stationed two at the
pump-handle, and formed a line of bucket-passers from the water-trough
to Carl and Cully, who were spreading the blankets on the roof. The
heat now was terrific; Carl had to shield his face with his sleeve as he
threw the water. Cully lay flat on the shingles, holding to the steaming
blankets, and directing Carl's buckets with his outstretched finger when
some greater spark lodged and gained headway. If they could keep these
burning brands under until the heat had spent itself, they could perhaps
save the tool-house and the larger stable.

All this time Patsy had stood on the porch where Tom had left him
hanging over the railing wrapped in Jennie's shawl. He was not to move
until she came for him: she wanted him out of the way of trampling feet.
Now and then she would turn anxiously, catch sight of his wizened face
dazed with fright, wave her hand to him encouragingly, and work on.

Suddenly the little fellow gave a cry of terror and slid from the porch,
trailing the shawl after him, his crutch jerking over the ground, his
sobs almost choking him.

"Mammy! Cully! Stumpy's tied in the loft! Oh, somebody help me! He's in
the loft! Oh, please, please!"

In the roar of the flames nobody heard him. The noise of axes