by Carol Norton
Chapter Fourteen The Fire
Ticktock also went to sleep that night with a contented grin on his face.As a reward for having carried double for so many miles, and in generalcelebration of the happy state of affairs, Jim had given him two applesand an extra large portion of oats. It was a moderately cool night withfew flies to bother him; so the mustang dozed off while still munching onhis last mouthful of oats. He stood swaying dreamily on his feet, whilevisions of sugar cubes, dew-drenched clover, and whole bins full of oatsfloated through his brain. In the midst of his dream, the sweet odor ofclover slowly changed to a smell that was foreign and unpleasant. Themustang stirred uneasily and shook his head in annoyance but thedisturbing odor persisted. Sleepily he opened his eyes and then snortedin sudden alarm. The foreign smell was unmistakably smoke!
Mr. Meadows had completed the building of a new brooder house during theday. The scraps of lumber, together with other refuse, had been dumped inthe incinerator and burned. The fire had been inspected just before darkwhen everything had appeared to be burned with the exception of a fewsmall smoking embers. Unfortunately, the inspection had not been thoroughenough for there were a number of pieces of tar paper roofing in the backof the incinerator. They smoldered harmlessly for several hours until thenight breeze shifted. Suddenly they burst into flame and burned as onlytar paper can burn. A shower of sparks went up into the night.
Straw collects in every barnyard and the Meadows' yard was no exception.There had been no rain for over a week; so the wisps of straw lyingaround were ripe for burning. The wind had deposited a small pile ofloose straw against a lean-to which was built onto one end of the barn. Aspark landed in this pile and in a few minutes the straw was burningmerrily while the wind whipped the flames against the dry boards of thelean-to, filling the interior with smoke. Since this shed joined one endof the barn, smoke began to filter through the cracks into Ticktock'sstall. The fire was just catching the shed when the horse had awakenedwith his start of alarm.
Ticktock had been around many campfires with Jim, but he had always beenfree to move a respectful distance away and to stand clear of the smoke.This was a different situation, which was not at all to his liking. Asthe smoke grew thicker he decided something was amiss. He snorted andjerked his head as the acrid fumes began to tickle his nostrils and smarthis eyes. By twisting his neck he could see bright tongues of flamethrough the cracks in the wall and he was inspired with fresh terror. Thesmoke grew thicker until it interfered with his breathing. He movedaround as much as he was able in his confined stall, growing morefrightened each minute. He decided it was time to leave.
The pony tried backing out of his stall, but he came to the end of hishalter rope in a few feet. He pulled until his neck ached but still therope held. Then he moved forward until there was a small amount of slackin the tether. He gave a violent toss of his head. There was a painfulwrench as the rope snapped taut. This method was no more successful thanthe first, but there seemed no other course but to try again. The smokewas growing thicker and there was no time to lose. The frightened ponygave several more violent tugs until finally, after one particularlydesperate yank, the rope snapped. As he backed from the stall, Ticktockcould hear the uneasy stirrings of the other horses and cattle, whoalthough farther from the fire than he, were now awake and becomingfrightened too.
Freeing himself from the halter rope was only half the battle, for hestill had to get out of the barn. The door which was almost directly backof his stall was the usual double barn door. The stock had been put inthe barn because it had looked very much like rain. However, the upperhalves of the doors had been left open, so that it wouldn't become toohot inside. Ticktock stuck his muzzle over the lower half to breathegratefully the fresh night air. A few deep breaths restored his energyenough and calmed him sufficiently for him to consider the remainder ofhis problem. There was not room enough to try to jump over the closedpart of the door. After surveying the situation appraisingly, the littlemustang turned around until his back feet were pointing toward theopening. His motto had always been, "When in doubt--kick." With nohesitation he went into action. Kicking was one of his majoraccomplishments; so three hefty blows were enough to break the door open.If a horse can give a sigh of relief, he gave one when he bolted into theopen barnyard. Perhaps it was just a huge gulp of fresh air but itsounded like a sigh of relief.
Once outside, Ticktock could see the burning shed clearly. He trotted tothe other side of the yard where he was in safety and then turned to lookover the situation again. It was only a matter of time until the barnproper was on fire, trapping all the animals in it. He could hear themovements of these animals who were rapidly growing frantic. Although hepersonally was out of danger, Ticktock knew that something terrible washappening. His own feelings when he had been in the barn were still freshenough in his mind to make him nervous. He thought the matter over. Thatblazing shed was wrong. It didn't fit into the proper scheme of thingsaround the farm. When anything was wrong, Ticktock had only onethought--to go to Jim. Jim could solve everything. The mustang trottedtoward the fence separating the barnyard from the grounds around thehouse. It was a formidably high board fence, higher than any he had evertried. Doubtfully he trotted back across the yard, knowing the sensiblething to do was to keep away from the fire and forget that high fence.The noise made by the trapped animals grew louder and more panicky. Therewas a feeling of terrible urgency that told him he should go to Jim.Dismissing his doubts, he started running toward the fence.
Jumping a fence]
The little horse made a magnificent leap, but the fence was too high forhim. His front legs cleared but his hind legs were a few sickening inchesshort. His hooves hit the top of the boards with a resounding thud thatthrew him off balance. He got over the fence but landed wrong. He felt aterrible pain in his right foreleg as it crumpled beneath him. The nightwas split with the heartbreaking scream of a horse in agony.
Jim sat bolt upright in bed at Ticktock's first scream, alarmed andconfused. When the terrible piercing sound was repeated, he leaped out ofbed and tore down the hall, shouting as he went.
"Dad! Mom! The horses! Something's happened to one of them!" He did notsay "Ticktock," as the idea that the shrieking horse could be his belovedpony was too terrible to admit, even to himself. He was filled withhideous misgivings, though, as he raced down the stairs. When he openedthe front door he saw the fire.
"Fire! Fire!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. Mr. Meadows did notneed the second alarm, as Jim's first shout had been enough to jerk himout of bed. He had pulled on his trousers and shoes and was starting downthe stairs when he heard the word "fire."
Barefooted and in his pajamas, Jim raced toward the barn. Halfway therehe saw Ticktock. The little mustang was lying helplessly on his side,screaming and kicking in terror and pain. Forgetting the fire, Jim racedtoward the stricken horse. He felt a sickening sense of calamity as heapproached Ticktock. He dreaded going nearer, yet he had to know what waswrong. Then in the wavering light from the fire, he saw his worst fearsrealized; Ticktock's leg was hanging limp and useless, broken between thefetlock and the knee.
Few people ever have to face sudden stark tragedy. There is usually somewarning or preparation that makes the shock more bearable. Jim was not sofortunate. Out of a happy sleep he had awakened to this. There was nobottom to the depths of his despair. This was a tragedy beyond his mosthorrible dreams. A terrible numbing agony swept over him, leaving himnauseated, blinded and stricken. There was a huge leaden mass where hisheart and stomach had been. He shed no tears but threw himself in ahopeless heap on the ground beside the horse. Not knowing what he wasdoing, he took Ticktock's head in his lap and began to stroke themustang's forehead. He mumbled softly and unintelligibly to thetrembling, terror-stricken horse.
Mrs. Meadows, who had dressed by this time, came out into the yardcarrying Jim's shoes, shirt and trousers. She had turned on the yardlight; so she saw the
horse and boy immediately. There was no need to askwhat was wrong. The crumpled leg was only too evident. Tears of sympathyand grief started to her eyes, both for the little horse and for her son.She glanced hesitantly toward the fire, feeling she should rush to herhusband's aid, but she knew what sickening grief was shaking her son. Shehad to comfort him, if only for a moment. Saying nothing, she walked overto put her hand on his shoulder. Jim looked up at her dumbly as ifstruggling for recognition. Slowly he brought his mind out of itsnumbness.
"Broken," he said in a hopeless, tired voice. "Broken."
"I know."
"The fire," he said slowly. "I ought to help."
"No, you stay--" she started to say and then thought better. His help wasneeded and anything that would take his mind off Ticktock would help."Yes, Jim, there are other horses that are trapped in the barn. You'dbetter help."
"You help carry water," she warned him as he pulled on his clothes overhis pajamas. "Stay out of the barn unless your father tells you that youcan go in."
Jean came out to drop beside Ticktock in sorrow almost as great as Jim's.While the girl comforted the pony, Jim and his mother rushed off to helpMr. Meadows. With misgivings, Jim's father permitted him to go into thesmoke-filled barn, for help was needed desperately. The terrorizedanimals were threshing about in their stalls so violently that it wasdangerous work to get near them in the smoky interior to untie them.Choking and blinded, Jim led out one cow, only to plunge back in againafter another. Mr. Meadows was racing in and out of the barn like amadman, leading out the huge work horses. Mrs. Meadows ran back and forthfrom the watering tank to the fire carrying water while anxiously tryingto keep tabs on both her husband and son to see that neither was gone toolong, perhaps lost and overcome by the smoke. Finally all the stock wassafely out in the yard and the two, coughing and sputtering, turned tohelp Mrs. Meadows fight the still growing fire.
They carried water until they were at the point of exhaustion and the bigwater tank was almost empty. Mr. Meadows was the only one strong enoughto throw water onto the roof of the lean-to, which by this time wasburning fiercely. He scorched his face and arms while his hair andeyebrows became singed and frizzled. With his face blackened with soot,he continued to fight the fire with the water that Jim and his motherpantingly lugged to the scene. At last they began to make headway and theboards no longer blazed but smoldered. The lean-to was almost destroyed,while one end of the barn was badly scorched and charred. When finallythere were no more bright blazes but only embers, Mrs. Meadows turned toher son.
"Go on back to your horse. We'll finish here."
Jim returned to his stricken mustang. During the fire, excitement hadreplaced much of his grief, but now it returned with all its formerforce. Dejectedly he sat down beside Jean to stroke the horse's quiveringhead. He was still dumbly patting Ticktock's neck when Mr. Meadows cameto stand beside him some minutes later. Jim looked up at his blackened,begrimed father.
"He broke his halter rope and kicked down the door," said the older man."Why he jumped the fence into the yard we'll never know. I guess horsescan do a lot more thinking than we realize. He may have wanted to warnus. If that was his idea, he succeeded, although he had to break his legto do it. I suppose it's small consolation, son, but your pony saved thebarn and all the other stock."
Ticktock had calmed down somewhat now that Jim was stroking his headagain. He was still trembling, but he no longer tried to strugglefutilely to his feet. The pain, while not the first horrible jabbingagony, was still present. He rolled his eyes in fright and only Jim'scomforting hand kept him from writhing about on the ground. Mr. Meadowsknelt down, examining the leg carefully. He straightened up with a grimexpression on his face.
"It's broken, son," he said. "I suppose you know that. It's pretty high;so there isn't a chance. You better go in the house and let me put himout of his pain."
"No!" cried Jim, coming suddenly out of his stupor. "You can't shoothim."
"I don't want to," said his father gently. "But it's the only thing wecan do. The only thing that's fair to Ticktock."
"Call Dr. Cornby," said Jim with a faint glimmer of hope in his voice."Maybe he can fix it."
"If the break were lower, there might be some possibility of saving him,"said Mr. Meadows. "I hate to disappoint you Jim, but Dr. Cornby won't beable to do anything."
"We can see," said Jim with pleading insistence.
"I'll go call the veterinarian," said Mrs. Meadows. She went inside tothe telephone.
In a few minutes Jim's mother was back. "There was no answer at Dr.Cornby's home, Jim. It's eleven-thirty; so I suppose he will be homebefore too long. In the meantime I have no idea where to reach him."
"What day is it?" asked Jim with apparent irrelevance.
"Thursday, why?"
"He's at the Springdale _Gazette_ office as usual," said Jim whose mindwas functioning again with its old sharpness. "Call him there and tellhim how important it is."
Dr. Cornby was very surprised when he was called to the telephone. Helistened carefully for a few minutes.
"Where is the leg broken?" he asked after Mrs. Meadows had explained whathad happened.
"About four inches below the knee," replied Jim's mother.
"That makes it tough," he said. "Not much chance with the break there."
"That's what Carl said, but Dr. Cornby, you have to come out to see thehorse," said Mrs. Meadows desperately. "Jim is absolutely heartbroken.Even if you can't do a thing, it will make him feel better. That's reallywhy I want you to come, for Jim as much as the horse. I want him to knowthat everything possible is being done."
"Certainly, Mrs. Meadows," said Cornby. "I'll be right out. I owe thatboy of yours a good turn anyhow. Keep the horse as quiet as possible inthe meantime."
"What's happened?" asked the editor when Cornby hung up the receiver.
"There was a fire out at the Meadows' place. That mustang kicked his wayout of the barn, jumped a fence, and woke up the family. The trouble ishe broke his leg in the process."
"That kid'll never get over this," said Arnold sympathetically. "Anychance of setting the horse's leg?"
"I don't know," said Cornby, shaking his gray head slowly. "Depends onwhat the break is like. It's pretty high, which is bad. However, I've gotto see what I can do."
The two men went to the veterinarian's office, where the doctor got hisbag. After he had all his instruments carefully stowed, he pulled out aheavy sack from the closet.
"What's in that?" asked Arnold.
"Quick-setting plaster," replied Cornby. "I hope we can use it. Otherwiseit's this." He pulled a forty-five from his desk drawer, examined it,inserted a clip and stuck it in his pocket.
"Look," said Arnold, "how about that new-fangled splint you used on yourdog? Wouldn't something like that work?"
"Maybe, maybe not. That was a Stader splint, and it has been a godsendfor small animals and for men, too, for that matter. On horses, as yet,it's use is no more certain to effect a cure than a plaster cast."
"Why not?" asked the editor as they got in the car.
"There's the same difficulty as with all methods of setting a horse'sleg. There's simply too much weight for such small legs. There'sexperimentation going on all the time at colleges and veterinarianschools. Every now and then you read an article that someone hasdiscovered a new method of repairing broken bones in horses, but the factremains that in most cases the horse is through. A plaster cast is stillthe most widely used, and only in isolated cases is it successful. I hopethis is one of them."
