THE DEED OF A HERO At the moment of Dick's leap from the car, Sub-master Luce did not know what had happened.

He realized in an instant what was the matter, and made frantic efforts to reach the scene at the same moment with Prescott.
Dick, however, kept the lead.
As the flames shot up through the hay the children on top of the hay began to gather a sense of their awful danger.
Seconds---fractions of seconds---were of priceless value now---if lives were to be saved.
There was still time for the two children to jump over the side on which the flames had not yet appeared, but they were too badly frightened to know what to do.
If they should jump where the flames were leaping up they were almost certain to have their clothing catch fire, with fatal burns as a result.
Dick felt that he did not have time to shout to the frightened children.

Besides, his commands would likely serve only to confuse them the more.
Terror-stricken the two little ones clasped each other and stood screaming with fear on the top of the load.
Dick's quick eye had taken in the only chance in this terrifying situation.
Straight for the apple tree he bounded, his first leap carrying him into a crotch in the tree a few feet above the ground.
Out he sprang, now, on a limb of the tree that most nearly overhung the load of hay.
That limb sagged under him---creaked---threatened to snap off under his weight.
But young Prescott, wholly heedless of his own safety, and with only one object in mind, scrambled out on the creaking limb as far as he could; then, with a prayer on his lips, he made a wild, strenuous leap.
Sub-master Luce turned white as he saw what Dick had attempted to do.

Had he been made of more timorous stuff the high school teacher would have closed his eyes for that awful instant.
As it was, John Luce saw young Prescott land at the rear end of the load.
Dick felt himself slipping.

For one frenzied second, he feared that he had failed.