“Yes!” was the reply. “But we need more than a rope to get out of here.”
“No, you don’t! I’ll show you!” shouted Jerry. He had brought the machine to a halt by throwing out the gear, but did not stop the gasolene engine. He quickly fastened the rope to the rear axle of the auto.
“Now tie the other end to the engine and we’ll pull you to the fire,” the boy said.
The driver saw the feasibility of the scheme at once. He unhitched the straining horses, attached the cable to the pole and gave the word. Jerry threw on the clutch, there was a tightening of the rope and slowly but surely the engine was dragged from the mud hole. Then, once on solid ground, Jerry put on more speed, and, amid the cheers of the crowd, he started off at a swift pace, dragging the engine to the fire.
The hose-cart had gone on ahead and was waiting for the steamer. Power was soon up in the apparatus, and soon two streams were directed toward the mill, which was now a mass of flames.
There was no chance of saving it, such a start had the fire gained, and, in fact, the loss would be small if it burned down, but the fire company could not let slip a chance of going to the blaze. So the crew continued to squirt water, though most of it did little good. However, there was plenty of excitement, which suited the boys.
Those in the auto watched the old mill gradually being consumed. To the boys it brought a recollection of the time they had there made the final discovery of Noddy Nixon’s villainy, and had practically forced him to admit his guilt. At last the roof fell in, with a big shower of sparks, and the fire was practically out, though the steamer continued to pump water.
“Let’s go home,” suggested Mr. Baker. “We’ve seen enough.”
“Oh, stay a while longer!” pleaded his son. “It’s a fine moonlight night and it will be fun going home later.”
“You boys can stay if you like,” said the banker, “but home’s the place for me, eh, Mr. Slade?”