Once more came the frightened neighing of the horses, tied in their
stalls. Their cries were weird and terrifying, for a horse seldom
gives expression to its fear in that manner.
"You can't get 'em out!" called Constable Stickler, who had heard what
had been said. He left his supervision of the bucket brigade and ran
alongside of the boy. "The fire's all around 'em. You can't get 'em
out!"
"Well, I'm going to try," declared Bert.
"My fine horses!" exclaimed Mr. Stimson. "This means a terrible loss
to me!"
"Is the barn insured?" asked the constable.
"Yes, but my stock ain't. Oh, this is a terrible calamity! An awful
misfortune!"
Bert approached as closely as he dared to the blazing front of the
barn. Clearly no one could enter that way. But he knew the structure
well, for he had once helped Mr. Stimson get in his hay, when a shower
was threatened.
"Come around to the side door!" he called to those who followed him,
and, such was the effect of his leadership, that no one now thought of
questioning it. In times of excitement one cool head can do much, and
Bert was cool.
Beside the main entrance to the barn, which was up an elevated
driveway, there was a door opening into a sort of basement, and from
that, by means of stairs, the main floor of the barn, where the horses
were, could be reached.
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