TOM GROGAN
What would she be a-doin' out here, anyway?” he exclaimed in a sudden anxious tone. “Dis ain't de road from de house. Hully gee! Look out for yer coat! De rails is a-soakin' wid ker'sene!”
At this moment a little flame shot out of the window over the Big Gray's head and licked its way up the siding, followed by a column of smoke which burst through the door in the hay-loft above the stalls of the three horses next the bedroom of Carl and Cully. A window was hastily opened in Tom's house and a frightened shriek broke the stillness of the night. It was Jennie's voice, and it had a tone of something besides alarm.
What the sight of the fire had paralyzed in Carl, the voice awoke.
“No, no! I here—I safe, Jan!” he cried, clearing the fence with a bound.
Cully did not hear Jennie. He saw only the curling flames over the Big Gray's head. As he dashed down the slope he kept muttering the old horse's pet names, catching his breath, and calling to Carl, “Save de Gray—save Ole Blowhard!”
Cully reached the stable first, smashed the padlock with a shovel, and rushed into the
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