The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1897-01-21

vibration OF the thrifty part of their
minds at sight of this overturned Ian
tern. Under ordinary circumstances it
would have been calamity.
But the cattle in the barn were
trampling, trampling trampling, and
above this noise could be heard hum
ming like the song of innumerable bees.
The old man hurled aside the great
doors, and a yellow flame leaped out at
one corner and sped and sped and waver
ed frantically up the old gray wall. 1t
Was glad, terrible, this single flame,
like the wild banner of deadly and tri
umphant foes.
The motley crowd from the garnet
had come with all the pals of the farm.
They flung themselves upon the well. 1t
was a leisurely old machine, long dwell
ing in Incidence. 1t was in the habit of
giving out water with a sort of reluc-
lance. The men stormed at it, cursed
it, but it continued to allow the buckets
to be filled only after the wheezy wind
lass had bowled many protests at the
mad handed men.
With his open knife in his hand, old
Fleming himself bad gone headlong into
the barn, where the sitting smoke
swirled with the air currents, and
where could be heard III its fullness the
terrible chorus of the flames laden with
tones of hate and death, hymn of
wonderful feroeity.
He flung blanket over an old mares
head, cut the halter close to the manager
led the mare to the door and fairly kick
ed her out to safety. He returned with
the same blanket and rescued one of the
work horses He took five horses out
and then came out himself with his
clothes bravely on fire.. He had no whisk
ers and very little hair on his head
They soused five pailfuls Of water on
him. His eldest son made clean miss
with the sixth pailful because the old
man had turned and was running down
the decline and around TO the basement
of the barn, where were the stanohions
of cows Some one noticed at the time
that he ran very lamely, as if one of the
frenzied horses had smashed his hip.
The COWS, with their heads held in
the heavy stanchions, had thrown them
selves, strangled themselves, tangled
demonstrations everything which the
ingenuity of their exuberant fear could
suggest to them.
Here, as at the well, the same thing
happened to every man save one. Their
hands went mad. They became ineapa-
BILE of everything save the power to rush
into dangerous situations.
The old man released the COW nearest
the door, and She blind drunk with
terror crashed into the Swede. The
SWede had been running to and fro,
bahhling. He carried an empty milk
pail, to which he chung with an uneon-
scious fierce enthusiasm. lie shrieked
like one lost as he went under the COW 5
hoofs and the milk pail, rolling across
the floor, made fash Of silver III the
gloom.
Old Fleming took II forh, beat off the
COW and dragged the paralyZed Swede
to the open air When they had rescued
all the COWS save one, which had sc
fastened herself that She could not be
moved an inch they returned to the
of the barn and stood sadly, breath
ing like men who had reached the final
point Of human effort.
Many people had como running, Some
one had even gone To the church, and
now, from the distance, rang the toesln
note of the old bell. There was long
flare of crimson on the sky, which made
m la a f1 I la u no
abouts of the fire.
The long flames sang their drumming
chorus III voices of the heaviest bass.
The wind whirled clouds of smoke aud
einders into the faces of the spectators.
The form of the old barn was outlined
i'll black amid these masses Of orange
hued flames
And then came this Swede again,
crying as one who Is the weapon of the
sinister fates: De colts! DE colts! You
have forgot de colts
Old Fleming staggered. 1t was true
they had forgotten the two colts i'll the
box stalls at the back of the barn.
Boys. he said, Il must try to get 'em
out. >" They clamored about him then,
afraid for him, afraid Of what they
should see. Then they talked wildly
each to each why, IT'S sure death
"He would never get OUT why, it +
suicide for "a man to go in therel Old
Fleming stared absentmindcdly at the
open doors. THE poor little things,
he said. He rushed Into the barn.
When the root fell ill., great funnel
| of smoke swarmed toward the sky as if
the old mans mighty spirit, released
from its body-a little bottle-had
swelled like the genius of fable The
smoke was tinted rose hue from the
flames. and perhaps the unutterable mid
nights of the universe will have nc
power to daunt the color of this soul. -
Stephen Crane III ST James Budget.
Chivalrous MIR. Fields.
Elizahptb Stuart pbplpS in bar bpok