"Git to work now."
"Yes, I guess they'd better, or there won't be any barn to save,"
spoke Bert.
The flames were crackling furiously. The crowd was constantly
increasing, and nearly every man had a bucket or pail. Some had
brought their wives' dishpans, as they could not find their pails in
the darkness and confusion.
"Come on, Bert, let's get in line," suggested Vincent.
"Yes--let--me--git--to--a--place--where--I--can--rest," begged Cole.
"Here, I'll help," added John Boll, another of Bert's chums.
"I'd rather pass the full buckets," said Tom Donnell.
"Now then, everybody begin to pass," cried the constable, who had his
men in some kind of shape. There were three lines extending from the
burning barn to the horse trough, some distance away. The trough was
fed by a pipe, running from a spring, and there was plenty of water.
"Dip an' pass," cried the constable, and the word went along the
lines. Men standing near the trough dipped their pails in, handed them
to the person standing next, and so, from hand to hand went the
dripping buckets of water. At last the pail reached the end of the
line, and the man nearest the blaze proceeded to throw on the
quenching fluid.
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