CHAPTER III
DISASTER
Old Dobbin pricked up his ears and kept royally to his task as he seemedto enter into the excitement of the moment.
Andy had practiced on the animal on several previous occasions. Lumps ofsugar and apples had rewarded Dobbin at the end of the performances forhis faithful services. He seemed now to remember this, as he gallopedalong towards the waiting group down the road.
Sometimes Andy had made the horseback somersault successfully. Sometimeshe had failed ignominiously and tumbled to the ground. Just now he feltno doubt of the result. The padded cushion cover was broad and steady.
He kept the horse close to the inner edge of the road. The tree stumpupon which Alf Warren stood just lined it.
By holding the hoop extended straight out, the horse's body would passdirectly under this.
Nearer and nearer steed and rider approached the point of interest.
The spectators gaped and squirmed, vastly excited, but silent now.
About one hundred feet away from the tree stump, Andy shouted out thequick word:
"Ready."
At once Alf Warren drew the match in his free hand across his coatsleeve. It lighted. He applied the ignited splinter to the edge ofthe hoop.
The oil-soaked covering took fire instantly. The blaze ran round thecircle. The hoop burst into a wreath of light, darting flames.
Andy fixed a calculating eye on hoop and holder.
"Two inches lower," he ordered--"keep it firm."
The horse seemed inclined to swerve at a sight of the fiery hoop. Andysoothed Dobbin by word and kept him steady with the bridle reins.
Everything seemed working smoothly. Andy moved to the extreme rear edgeof the platform and poised there.
Five feet away from the hoop he dropped the riding whip. Then he flungthe reins across the horse's neck.
With nerve and precision Andy started a forward somersault at just theright moment.
He felt a warm wave cross his face. As he made the complete circle heknew that something was wrong.
"Ouch!" suddenly yelled out Alf.
A spurt of flame had shot against his hand that held the short stickattached to the hoop.
Alf let go the hoop and dropped it. As Andy came down, righted again onthe platform, one foot struck the narrow edge of the hoop.
He was in his stocking feet, and the contact cut the instep sharply. Itthrew Andy off his balance. He tried to right himself, but failed. Hetipped sideways, and was forced to jump to the ground.
The hoop fell forward against the horse's mane. With a wild neigh ofterror and pain the animal leaped to one side, carrying away a sectionof rotten fence. The blazing hoop now dropped around its neck.
A shout of dismay went up from the spectators. Alf, nursing his burnedfingers, looked scared. Andy glanced sharply after the flying horse andspurted after it. At that moment the school bell rang out, and the crowdmade a rush in the direction of the building. Alf Warren lagged behind.
"Go ahead," directed Andy, "I'll catch Dobbin."
Ned Wilfer at that moment dashed up to Andy's side.
"I'll stay and help you," he panted.
"Don't be tardy, don't get into trouble," said Andy.
Dobbin was making straight across a meadow. The kerosene soaked rags hadpretty well burned out. They smoked still, however, and in the breezeonce in a while a tongue of flame would dart forth.
Dobbin passed a haystack, then another. He was momentarily shut out fromAndy's view on both occasions.
At his second reappearance Andy noticed that the animal had got rid ofthe hoop. Dobbin now slackened his pace, snorted, and, laying down,rolled over and over in the stubble.
The horse righted himself as Andy came up with him, breathless.
"So, so, old fellow," soothed Andy. "Just singed the mane a little,that's all."
He patted the animal's nose and seized the bridle to lead Dobbin back tothe pasture from which he had started.
"Oh, gracious!" exclaimed Andy, abruptly dropping the bridle quickerthan he had seized it.
Forty feet back on the course Dobbin had come, the second haystack wasall ablaze.
There the horse had thrown off the fire hoop, or it had burned throughat some part and had dropped there.
It had set the dry hay aflame. As Andy looked, it spread out into afan-like blaze, enveloping one whole side of the stack.
Andy was dumb with consternation. However, he was not the boy to face acalamity inactively.
His quick eye saw that the stack was doomed. What troubled him more thanthat was the imminent danger to half-a-dozen other stacks nearlyadjoining it.
"All Farmer Dale's hay!" gasped the perturbed lad. "Fifty tons, ifthere's one. If all that goes, what shall I do?"
Andy took in the whole situation with a vivid glance. Then he made abee-line dash for a broken stack against which rested a largefield rake.
It was broad and had a very long handle. Andy ran with it towards theblazing heap of hay and set to work instantly.
"This won't do," he breathed excitedly, as an effort to beat out thespreading flames only caused burning shreds to fill the air. Thesethreatened to ignite the contiguous stacks.
Once the first of these was started they would all go one after theother. They were out of the direct draught of the light breezeprevailing. What cinders arose went straight up high in the air. Themain danger threatened from the stubble.
Creeping into this from the base of the haystack in flames, littlepathways of fire darted out like vicious serpents.
Andy made for these with the rake. He beat at them and scraped theground. He stamped with his stockinged feet and pulled up clumps ofstubble with his hands.
The trouble was that so many little fires started up at so manydifferent spots. Finally, however, the ground was a mass of burned-outgrass for twenty feet clear around the centre of the blaze.
The haystack was sinking down a glowing mass, but now confined itselfand past spreading out.
Andy flung himself on the ground fairly exhausted. His hands and facewere somewhat blistered, and he was wringing wet with perspiration.
He looked pretty serious as he did "a sum out of school."
"That stack held about two tons and a-half," he calculated. "I heard afarmer at the post-office say yesterday that he was getting eightdollars in the stack for hay. There's twenty dollars gone up in smoke.Where will I ever get twenty dollars?"
Andy became more and more despondent the longer he thought of the dismalsituation.
He stirred himself to action. With the rake he heaped together thebrittle filaments of burned hay.
"It can't spread any now," he decided finally. "It's dying down tonothing. Now then, what's next?"
Andy took a far look in all directions. The fire had burned so rapidlyand clear in the crisp light air that it did not seem to have beenobserved in the village.
Andy wondered, however, that some of the Dales had not discovered it. Hestood gazing thoughtfully at the Dale homestead about aquarter-of-a-mile away.
A great many impulsive, disheartening and also reckless projects ranthrough his mind.
"It's an awful fix to be in," ruminated Andy with a sigh of realdistress. "If ever it was up to a fellow to cut stick and run, it's upto Andy Wildwood at this minute. Expelled from school, burning up aman's haystack and then--Aunt Lavinia! The rest is bad enough, but whenI think of her it sends the cold chills all over me. Ugh!"
Andy looked for Dobbin. It was some time before he discovered theinnocent partner of his recent disastrous escapade.
The old horse was half-a-mile distant, placidly making along the roadwayfor home.
Andy rubbed his head in distress and uncertainty. He had a hard problemto figure out. Suddenly his eyes snapped and he straightened up briskly.
"I won't crawl," he declared. "'Toe the mark' is Aunt Lavinia's greatmotto. 'Face the music' is mine. I won't turn tail and play the sneak.I've destroyed some property. Well, the first honest t
hing to do is totry and make good. Here goes."
Andy started for the road. He reached the spot where he had left hiscoat and shoes. Donning these he went to a little pool in the brush,washed his face and hands, and made a short cut for Farmer Dale's house.
Andy's heart was beating pretty fast as he entered the farm yard, but hemarched straight up to the front door.
Andy knocked, first timidly, then louder.
There was no response.
Andy the Acrobat Page 3
