“They won’t wait for that—they’ll jump into the river first,” answered Tom soberly. For the time being all the fun was knocked out of him.
While talking, the boys had been busy with the boats. Stanley’s gasolene launch was pushed out, and he and Dick leaped aboard, and the latter set the flywheel going. The engine was in good running order, and soon a steady put-put! sounded out, and the craft headed for the burning steamer. But, as quick as Dick and Stanley were in their movements, Tom and Sam were equally alert, and as the launch moved away Tom and his brother scrambled into a rowboat, oars in hand, and caught fast to the power craft with a boathook.
“You can pull us as well as not,” said Tom.
“Right you are,” answered Stanley. “And the quicker both boats get to that steamer the better.”
As they drew closer to the Thistle they saw a volume of smoke roll up from the engine room. A barrel of oil had taken fire and the crew had found it impossible to subdue the conflagration. As yet the fire was only a small one, but there was no telling how soon it would spread, and the seminary girls on board were panic-stricken, more especially as the teacher who chanced to be with them was herself an extremely nervous person.
“Oh, girls, what shall we do?” asked Grace Laning, after the first dreadful alarm was at an end.
“Perhaps we had better jump overboard,” suggested Nellie Laning. “I don’t want to be burned alive!” And her wide-open eyes showed her terror.
“Don’t jump yet,” said Dora Stanhope, as bravely as she could.
“Oh, girls, we’ll be burned to death! I know it, I feel it!” wailed another seminary student.
“We are near Brill College,” said another. “Let us cry for help!” And then commenced the screaming that reached the players on the ball field and others near the water’s edge.