"Mr. Stimson's barn? He has a fine lot of cattle in it. Oh, I hope
they save the poor creatures!"

Herbert, or, as he was usually called by his chums, Bert, grabbed up
his clothes from a chair, and began to sort them in the darkness,
looking for his trousers.

"What are you doing, Herbert?" asked his mother.

"I'm going to dress."

"What for?"

"I'm going to the fire."

"Herbert! Don't go! You might get hurt. Suppose some of the horses
should run away and trample on you? Don't go!"

"I must, mother. They'll need all the help they can get. I must go!"

From the village street once more came the alarm.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

Now, however, more voices were shouting it. There was also the rush of
feet, and Bert, peering from the window, saw a crowd of men and boys,
many of them carrying buckets, hastening along. The glare in the sky
had become brighter.