Middletown transcript., 1901-02-23
/. The Veteran J.
By STEPHEN CRANE.

ling, trampling, trampllng, ana ABOVE
this noise could be heard humming like
the song of innumberable bees. The old
man hurled aside the great doors, and q
yellow fame leaped out at one corner
and sped and wavered frantically up the
old gray wall. 1t was glad, terrible, this
single fame, like the wild banner OF
deadly and triumphant foes.
The motley crowd from the garret had
come with all the pals of the farm.
They flung themselves upon the well.
1t was a leisurely old machine, long
dwelling in Incidence. 1t was in the
habit of giving out water with sort OF
reluctance. The men stormed at it,
but it continued to allow the cursed it;
buckets tobe filled only after the wheezy
windlass had howled many protests
at the madhanded men.
With his opened knife in his hand old
Fleming himself had gone headlong into
the barn, where the sitting smoke
swirled with the air-currents, and where
could be heard it its fulness the terrible
chorus of the flames laden with tones of
hate and death, a hymn of wonderful
ferocity.
He flung blanket over an old mares
head, cut the halter close to the manger,
led the mare to the door, and fairly
kicked 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
whiskers, and very little hair on his
head. They soused five pailfulls 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 base
ment of the barn, where were the stanch-
ions of the 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 themselves,
strangled themselves, tangled themselves:
done everything which the ingenuity of
their exuberant fear could suggest of
them.
Here, as at the well, the same thing
happened to every man save one. Their
hands went mad. They became incap-
able of everything save the power to
rush into dangerous situations.
The old man released the cow nearest
the door, and she, blind drunk with ter
ror, crashed into the Swede. The Swede
had been running to and fro babbling.
He carried an empty milk-paid, to which
he clung with an unconscious, fierce en-
thusiasm. He shrieked like one lost as
he went under the cows hoofs, and the
milk-pail, rolling across the floor, made
flash of silver in the gloom.
Old Fleming took fork, beat off the
cow, and dragged the paralyzed Swede
to the open air. When they had rescued
all the cows save one, which had so
fastened herself that she could not be
moved an inch, they returned to the
front of the barn and stood sadly, breath
ing like men who had reached the final
point of human effort.
Many people had come running Some
one had even gone to the church, and
now, from the distance, rang the tocsin
note of the old bell. There was a long
fare of crimson on the sky, which made
remote people speculate as to the where
abouts of the fire.
The long flames sang their drumming
chorus in voices of the heaviest bass.
The wind whirled clouds of smoke and
cinders into the faces of the spectators
The form of the old barn was outlined in
black amid these masses of orange-hued
flames.
And then came this Swede again, cry
ing as one who is the weapon of the sin
lister fates. "De colts! De colts! You
have forgot de coltsp'
Old Fleming staggered. 1t was true;
they had forgotten the two colts in 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 deathP' "He would
never get outr' "Why, it's suicide for
a man to go in therep Old Fleming
stared absent-mindedly at the open doors.
The poor little things" he said. He
rushed into the barn.
When the roof fell in, 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 genie of fable. The smoke was
tinted rose-hue from the flames, and per-
haps the unutterable midnights of the
universe will have no power to daunt the
color of this soul.-McCzure's Magazine,