THE FIELD-PLAY. 15 



side of the rick, singeing it as a horse's coat is singed, 

 takes the straw of the thatch which blackens into a 

 hole, cuts its way through, the draught lifts it up the 

 slope of the thatch, and in five minutes the rick is on 

 fire irrecoverably. Unless beaten out at the first start, 

 it is certain to go on. A spark from a pipe, dropped 

 from the mouth of a sleeping man, will do it. Once 

 well alight, and the engines may come at full speed, 

 one five miles, one eight, two ten ; they may pump the 

 pond dry, and lay hose to the distant brook — it is in 

 vain. The spread of the flames may be arrested, but 

 not all the water that can be thrown will put out the 

 rick. The outside of the rick where the water strikes 

 it turns black, and dense smoke arises, but the inside 

 core continues to burn till the last piece is charred. 

 All that can be done is to hastily cut away that side of 

 the rick — if any remains — yet untouched, and carry 

 it bodily away. A hay-rick will burn for hours, one 

 huge mass of concentrated, glowing, solid fire, not 

 much flame, but glowing coals, so that the farmer may 

 fully understand, may watch and study and fully 

 comprehend the extent of his loss. It burns itself 

 from a square to a dome, and the red dome grows 

 gradually smaller till its lowest layer of ashes strews 

 the ground. It burns itself as it were in blocks : the 

 rick was really homogeneous ; it looks while aglow as 

 if it had been constructed of large bricks or blocks of 

 hay. These now blackened blocks dry and crumble 

 one by one till the dome sinks. Under foot the earth 

 is heated, so intense is the fire ; no one can approach, 

 even on the windward side, within a pole's length, A 

 widening stream of dense white smoke flows away 



