Chapter IV: A Close Shave

Frank Allen was not one to give up easily. He continued to strive to free the snared foot, his efforts being accentuated by the fierce heat of the roaring furnace that ate its way through the tons on tons of combustibles. In his extremity he shouted at the top of his voice, at the same time doubtful whether his cries could reach outside of the barn, with all that noise of crackling flames and roaring draughts. Still he continued to call.

"Help! Help!"

Although calling for assistance, the youth did not cease his frantic efforts to dislodge his trapped foot. He knew only too well what a slender chance there was that any one should be close enough to hear his cries and come to his rescue, even in the doubtful event of being able to get through the flames.

Then what was close to an inspiration flashed through his excited brain, and he lost no time in trying anew to break loose.

Luckily, he was able to bend over far enough to get at his shoe. With eager fingers he tore the laces open, and then made a last desperate effort to free his right foot.

A thrill ran through the boy when he found that he could draw the foot out of his shoe! He was saved--least, he was given a fresh chance to escape the dreadful fate that threatened to overwhelm him!

Sensible even in such a situation, Frank next tore his shoe loose, and managed to get it on after a fashion. Then he turned away from the furious blast of fire and groped through the dense smoke, heading he knew not in which direction, only that he was fending off the threatening catastrophe a little longer by fleeing.

The fact that he was not acquainted with the interior of the barn brought him fresh trouble. An avenue of escape might be close at his elbow, an opening such as would afford him exit, and Frank would not be aware of the fact.

He was experiencing for the first time in all his life the sensation that grips one who realizes he is lost. In the woods or among the hills, with a sky overhead to give him the points of the compass, no one could be better than Frank Allen at making his way to safety. But it was vastly different in that smoke-filled structure.

Once more he gave tongue, in the hope that if Zander Forbes or any other of his cowboy friends were close by he would catch the call and cheer the groping wanderer with an answering whoop. Meanwhile, what of Mrs. Wallace and of Minnie? At thought of Minnie his heart sank.

Once the situation took on new threats. A burst of flame straight ahead warned Frank that he must sheer aside if he wished to escape being singed. His heart seemed to be in his throat with the suspense that continually gripped him. And, oh, how he yearned for a breath of fresh air!

Then he thought he caught the sound of a husky voice calling his own name. Could Lanky have followed him into the barn, and was even then wandering this way and that, chased by the fire, and in as great a predicament as himself?

Again Frank let out a whoop, and was cheered to catch an answering cowboy yell. Then it was not his chum after all, but one of the punchers. Somehow, this thought gave Frank renewed courage, for every one of the Rockspur outfit must be well acquainted with the barn's angles that had proved so confusing to him, and could thus lead the way to an exit.

Nearer came the booming voice, heard despite all the clamor around him. Now the boy could glimpse a moving figure, pushing in a beeline for the quarter where he chanced to be.

"Jerry! is it _you_?" Frank shrilled, somehow touched by this evidence of affection on the part of the old rustler who did not hesitate to risk his own life in the endeavor to save that of his young friend.

"It sure is, Frank! I'm comin' to git yuh out o' this hot box. Hain't got much time to waste neither, 'case the hull pesky roof is shore to drap in on us right quick."

Jerry had taken hold of Frank's left arm while saying this, and immediately commenced moving backward the way he had come. What a feeling of confidence came over the imperiled boy when he felt those friendly fingers in contact with his person. It seemed as though a tremendous load rolled off his shoulders in the magic of that touch.

Apparently Jerry was leading him toward what looked like a danger point to be avoided; but, somehow, Frank felt no apprehension. Jerry must know the barn like a book; indeed, possibly he himself had helped build it in those days when as a much younger man he had worked on this ranch.

Sure enough, by a sudden turn they managed to put the worst of the fire behind them. Frank even believed he felt the first whiff of fresh air, and, oh! how eagerly did he draw it into his tortured lungs.

"Hyar we are, younker!" exclaimed the veteran cowboy as they pushed past a last nest of fire and reached the open air.

"Look, Dad! There's Frank, safe and sound!" a voice bellowed, and Lanky, followed by the limping Paul, came rushing toward the pair who had just emerged from the roaring furnace.

How the other boys did squeeze Frank's hands and almost cried, such was the tense condition of their strained nerves!

Frank turned and looked back, shuddering. It was not his own narrow escape that made him feel so weak, but the still haunting dreadful fear that perhaps Lanky's mother and Minnie had been swallowed up in the pitiless conflagration.

"Oh! Lanky--is there any news--have you heard--Minnie--your mother?"

His whole soul was in that cry, and although his eyes were still burning and smarting from the effects of the smoke, he fastened his gaze on his chum in a most entreating way.

"Cheer up, Frank!" exclaimed Lanky, slapping his chum's shoulder in what was intended to be an encouraging way. "We've reason to believe Mom and Minnie weren't in the barn after all when the fire started."

Frank drew a long breath and leaned on Lanky, his sensation of relief leaving him weak and wobbling.

"But I don't see them anywhere around here!" he exclaimed, looking to the right and to the left, where the punchers were standing in groups watching the barn and its contents go up in flames, for no puny human efforts could now stay the march of destruction.

Lanky was beckoning, and Frank saw that it was Charlie Gin Sing who started toward them. The Chinaman had apparently managed to get over the worst of his emotion at seeing such a sight for the first time in his life; he looked more like his grinning self, Frank noticed, as he trotted up to where the three boys were standing.

"Charlie," said Lanky, taking hold of the cook's thin arm, "tell Frank here what you say you saw. He's been afraid the ladies were caught in the fire. That was what made him rush in there at the risk of his life."

"Me see Missy Wally--young lady come out side door--yep, long time back till I smell smoke and see barn he ketch fire."

That was lucid, and positive enough to convince Frank that his fears had after all been groundless. Charlie Gin Sing could be depended on to tell a straight story.

"Where were you when you saw them come out?" asked Frank.

"Me standee kitchen door--get lungs full air--wave hand at Missy Wally--she like Charlie his cooking--wave hand back--finest lady in all land, Missy Wally."

"Which way did they go after coming out of the barn?" continued Frank, bent on getting at the full facts, for if those who were missing had returned to the ranch house, it was strange they had not appeared on the scene, with all that racket going on.

"Walk away--hab lit basket 'long--come from China--ginger like all Chinese eat."

"Show me the direction they were heading when last you saw them, Charlie. It's queer they haven't shown up by now, no matter where they went."

"That's straight goods, Frank," interrupted Lanky, his forehead wrinkled with anxiety.

"Think Missy Wally she go them woods--me tell her wild flowers grow there where cattle drink at spring! Look! What tell you? Here come runnin', you savvy, like in big hurry!"

Lanky gave a whoop.

"He's right, Frank--Paul! There they come, and running, too. Oh! I'm so glad I could yell my head off. All this while they've been there in that patch of trees they say Josh Kinney planted fifty years ago."

Frank was about as much relieved as his chum; but, just the same, he noticed something that apparently Lanky had missed.

"Your mother acts as though exhausted, Lanky," he said. "See how Minnie tries to buoy her up. Was it because of their fears the ranch house was burning up and some lives in danger, or did something else happen to frighten them?"

Mr. Wallace was already hastening toward the approaching pair, and the three boys started on the run, Paul hobbling bravely along, although his ankle gave him frequent stabs of pain.

The "woods," as the big clump of trees was called by the punchers, were some distance away from the ranch buildings, and it took the boys an appreciable length of time to draw near Mrs. Wallace and Minnie.

"I was right," Frank kept telling himself, as he noted the looks of both Mrs. Wallace and the girl. "Something dreadful has certainly happened to make them act that way! Mrs. Wallace seems ready to drop, and Minnie, too, is as pale as a ghost. But, anyway, they are safe enough, and not caught in that fire-trap!"

Now they reached the pair, and Lanky threw his arm around his mother.

"Oh, what a scare we've had!" he told her. "We believed you had both been caught in the burning barn. But Charlie Gin Sing gave us the right stuff when he said he had seen you come out and head for the woods."

"But we have been in danger, after all," said his mother, in quivering tones. "I shall never, never want to visit those awful woods again. Only for Minnie's presence of mind I might have lost my life!"

"Why, what happened?" asked the astounded and anxious Lanky.

"Snakes--rattlesnakes! A whole den of them!" gasped the still shuddering Mrs. Wallace.