The Bobbsey Twins MEGAPACK ®. Laura Lee Hope
said Harry, somewhat alarmed. “But I guess it’s out.”
“My, look at the storm coming!” Bert exclaimed suddenly. “We ought to help John with that load of hay.”
“All right,” said Harry, “come along!” and with this the two boys started on a run down through the fields into the open meadow, where the dry hay was being packed up ready to put on the hay rick.
John, of course, was very glad of the help, for it spoils hay to get it wet, so all three worked hard to load up before the heavy shower should come up.
“All ready!” called John, “and no time to lose.”
At this the boys jumped up and all started for the barn.
“There’s smoke!” exclaimed Harry in terror as they neared the barn.
“The barn is afire!” screamed John the next minute, almost falling from his seat on the wagon in his haste to get down.
“Quick! quick!” yelled the boys, so frightened they could hardly move.
“The hose!” called John, seeing flames now shoot out of the barn windows, “Get the hose, Harry; it’s in the coach house. I’ll get a bucket while you attach the hose.”
By this time everybody was out from the house.
“Oh, mercy!” cried Aunt Sarah. “Our whole barn will be burned.”
Uncle Daniel was with John now, pouring water on the flames, that were gaining in spite of all efforts to put them out.
“Where’s the firemen!” cried little Freddie, in real tears this time, for he, like all the others, was awfully frightened.
The boys had a stream from the hose now, but this too was of no account, for the flames had shot up from the big pile of dry hay!
“The firemen!” called Freddie again.
“There are no firemen in the country, Freddie,” Nan told him. “We have to put the fire out ourselves.”
“We can’t then,” he went on, “and all the other barns will burn too.”
There was indeed great danger, for the flames were getting ahead rapidly.
All this time the terrific thunderstorm was coming up.
Clap after clap of thunder rolled over the hills and made the fire look more terrible against the black sky.
“The rain!” exclaimed Uncle Daniel at last, “The rain may put it out; we can’t.”
At this one terrific clap of thunder came. Then the downpour of rain. It came like a very deluge, and as it fell on the flames it sent out steam and smoke but quickly subdued the cracking and flashing of the fire.
Everybody ran to the back porch now but John and Uncle Daniel. They went in the coach house at the side of the barn.
“How could it have caught fire?” Aunt Sarah said. But Harry and Bert were both very pale, and never said a word.
How heavily the rain did pour down, just like a cloudburst! And as it struck the fire even the smoke began to die out.
“It’s going out!” exclaimed Harry. “Oh, I hope it keeps on raining!”
Soon there was even no more smoke!
“It’s out!” called John, a little later. “That was a lucky storm for us.”
CHAPTER XVX
The Flood
The heavy downpour of rain had ceased now, and everybody ran to the barn to see what damage the fire had done.
“It almost caught my pigeon coop!” said Harry, as he examined the blackened beams in the barn near the wire cage his birds lived in.
“The entire back of this barn will have to be rebuilt,” said Uncle Daniel. “John, are you sure you didn’t drop a match in the hay?”
“Positive, sir!” answered John. “I never use a match while I’m working. Didn’t even have one in my clothes.”
Bert whispered something to Harry. It was too much to have John blamed for their wrongdoing.
“Father!” said Harry bravely, but with tears in his eyes. “It was our fault; we set the barn afire!”
“What!” exclaimed Uncle Daniel in surprise. “You boys set the barn afire!”
“Yes,” spoke up Bert. “It was mostly my fault. I threw the cigarette away and we couldn’t find it.”
“Cigarette!” exclaimed Uncle Daniel. “What!—you boys smoking!”
Both Bert and Harry started to cry. They were not used to being spoken to like that, and of course they realized how much it cost to put that nasty old cigarette in their mouths. Besides there might have been a great deal more damage if it hadn’t been for the rain.
“Come with me!” Uncle Daniel said; “we must find out how all this happened,” and he led the unhappy boys into the coach house, where they all sat down on a bench.
“Now, Harry, stop your crying, and tell me about it,” the father commanded.
Harry tried to obey, but his tears choked him. Bert was the first able to speak.
“Oh, Uncle Daniel,” he cried, “we really didn’t mean to smoke. We only rolled up some corn silk in a piece of paper and—”
His tears choked back his words now, and Harry said:
“It was I who rolled the cigarette, father, and it was awful, it almost made us sick. Then when Bert put it in his mouth—”
“I threw it away and it must have fallen in the hay!” said Bert.
“Why didn’t you come and tell me?” questioned Uncle Daniel severely. “It was bad enough to do all that, but worse to take the risk of fire!”
“Well, the storm was coming,” Harry answered, “and we went to help John with the hay!”
“Now, boys,” said Uncle Daniel, “this has been a very serious lesson to you and one which you will remember all your lives. I need not punish you any more; you have suffered enough from the fright of that awful fire. And if it hadn’t been that you were always pretty good boys the Lord would not have sent that shower to save us as He did.”
“I bet I’ll never smoke again as long as I live,” said Harry determinedly through his tears.
“Neither will I,” Bert said firmly, “and I’ll try to make other fellows stop if I can.”
“All right,” answered Uncle Daniel, “I’m sure you mean that, and don’t forget to thank the Lord tonight for helping us as He did. And you must ask His pardon too for doing wrong, remember.”
This ended the boys’ confession, but they could not stop crying for a long time, and Bert felt so sick and nervous he went to bed without eating any supper. Uncle Daniel gave orders that no one should refer to the fire or cause the boys any more worry, as they were both really very nervous from the shock, so that beyond helping John clear things up in the burned end of the barn, there was no further reference to the boys’ accident.
Next day it rained very hard—in fact, it was one of those storms that come every summer and do not seem to know when to go away.
“The gate at the sawmill dam is closed,” Harry told Bert, “and if the pond gets any higher they won’t be able to cross the plank to open up the gate and let the water out.”
“That would be dangerous, wouldn’t it?” Bert asked.
“Very,” replied Harry. “Peter Burns’ house is right in line with the dam at the other side of the plank, and if the dam should ever burst that house would be swept away.”
“And