Andy the Acrobat | Page 6

out, the horse's body would pass
directly 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
the quick word:

"Ready."
At once Alf Warren drew the match in his free hand across his coat
sleeve. It lighted. He applied the ignited splinter to the edge of the
hoop.
The oil-soaked covering took fire instantly. The blaze ran round the
circle. 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. Andy
soothed Dobbin by word and kept him steady with the bridle reins.
Everything seemed working smoothly. Andy moved to the extreme rear
edge of the platform and poised there.
Five feet away from the hoop he dropped the riding whip. Then he
flung the reins across the horse's neck.
With nerve and precision Andy started a forward somersault at just the
right moment.
He felt a warm wave cross his face. As he made the complete circle he
knew that something was wrong.
"Ouch!" suddenly yelled out Alf.
A spurt of flame had shot against his hand that held the short stick
attached to the hoop.
Alf let go the hoop and dropped it. As Andy came down, righted again
on the platform, one foot struck the narrow edge of the hoop.
He was in his stocking feet, and the contact cut the instep sharply. It
threw Andy off his balance. He tried to right himself, but failed. He
tipped sideways, and was forced to jump to the ground.

The hoop fell forward against the horse's mane. With a wild neigh of
terror and pain the animal leaped to one side, carrying away a section
of rotten fence. The blazing hoop now dropped around its neck.
A shout of dismay went up from the spectators. Alf, nursing his burned
fingers, looked scared. Andy glanced sharply after the flying horse and
spurted after it. At that moment the school bell rang out, and the crowd
made 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 had pretty well burned out. They smoked still, however, and in the
breeze once in a while a tongue of flame would dart forth.
Dobbin passed a haystack, then another. He was momentarily shut out
from Andy's view on both occasions.
At his second reappearance Andy noticed that the animal had got rid of
the 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
to the pasture from which he had started.
"Oh, gracious!" exclaimed Andy, abruptly dropping the bridle quicker
than he had seized it.

Forty feet back on the course Dobbin had come, the second haystack
was all ablaze.
There the horse had thrown off the fire hoop, or it had burned through
at some part and had dropped there.
It had set the dry hay aflame. As Andy looked, it spread out into a
fan-like blaze, enveloping one whole side of the stack.
Andy was dumb with consternation. However, he was not the boy to
face a calamity inactively.
His quick eye saw that the stack was doomed. What troubled him more
than that was the imminent danger to half-a-dozen other stacks nearly
adjoining it.
"All Farmer Dale's hay!" gasped the perturbed lad. "Fifty tons, if there's
one. If all that goes, what shall I do?"
Andy took in the whole situation with a vivid glance. Then he made a
bee-line dash for a broken stack against which rested a large field rake.
It was broad and had a very long handle. Andy ran with it towards the
blazing heap of hay and set to work instantly.
"This won't do," he breathed excitedly, as an effort to beat out the
spreading flames only caused burning shreds to fill the air. These
threatened to ignite the contiguous stacks.
Once the first of these was started they would all go one after the other.
They were out of the direct draught of the light breeze prevailing. What
cinders arose went straight up high in the air. The main danger