grasping him by the hand. "Did you get burned any?"

"Just a bit; on one hand. I had to leave it out to hold the edges of
the blanket together. How about you?"

"Not a scorch, but I'm wet through from the blanket. It saved me,
though."

"The pump wouldn't work," explained Bert. "But come on, let's get out
of this. I'm standing in mud up to my knees. Why, the pile of burning
straw and hay that was down here seems to be out."

"Yes. I yelled to the bucket brigade that they'd better use the water
on this, instead of throwing it against the sides of the barn, where
it wasn't doing any good. So they did, and they kept a good deal of
the fire down, so's you'd have a good place to land in."

"I owe that to you, Vincent."

"And I owe my wet blanket to you, so we're even. But let's get on dry
ground."

The cow-yard, with the natural wetness that always existed there, to
which had been added many gallons of fluid from the bucket brigade,
was now a miniature swamp.

The boys, followed by an admiring throng, made their way to the front
of the barn. All work at attempting to save it had now ceased. Nothing
more could be done, and, as all the cattle and horses had been saved,
as well as some of the wagons and machinery, it might be said that all