No water was available to wet his blanket, on
which he depended to save himself from the flames.
"Bert! Bert! Come on! Jump!" he heard some one call.
He caught up his blanket It was merely damp.
"It's got to do!" he murmured. "I'll be scorched, I'm afraid, but
there's no help for it! Here goes!"
Wrapping the covering about him, he dashed across the barn floor. It
was ablaze in several places under his feet. The cataract of fire was
now fiercer than ever over the opening of the big doors. Holding the
blanket to protect his head, he took a running start, and jumped.
Straight through the big opening he went, and he heard a confused
cheer and shout as he appeared. He felt the hot breath of the fire all
about him. He smelled the scorching wool, the burning straw and hay.
His nose and mouth seemed full of cinders. He felt himself falling
down, down, down. He tried to keep himself upright, that he might land
on his feet, but, in spite of himself, he felt that he was turning on
his back. He twisted and squirmed, as does a diver who wants to cleave
the water cleanly. Oh, how Bert wished he was diving into the old
swimming hole, instead of into a fiery mass of straw and hay!
He landed on the ground in a crouching position.
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