“I should say so!” replied Hal. “Let’s climb up on top of those box-cars, where we can see better.”
So they dodged over to some box-cars standing on the tracks which branched northward, along the river, and secured seats from which they had a view unobstructed by irritating heads and hats. Other persons had preceded them, but there was plenty of room, and dangling their feet down the end of a car they proceeded to watch and wait. Bob, after a number of fruitless efforts to scale the side of the car, sat on the ground and watched and waited, too. However, he was interested in the two boys, more than in the fire.
“There’s just dray-load after dray-load of goods being hauled out of South Beaufort,” said Hal. “I was over a while. The people are scared, I tell you!”
“Let’s go and help,” suggested Ned, stung by the idea.
“No use,” responded Hal. “They can’t get wagons enough, for love or money, to take what stuff is scattered round, already.”
“Say—if the fire ever gets into South Beaufort, it will cross the tracks, sure, and then—um-m-m!” exclaimed Ned, shaking his head.
“Then the whole town will burn!” faltered Hal, his face paling.
At this instant they perceived among the throng which they had just left a bustle of excitement. Then came to their ears a cheer, and another, and another; then a continuous uproar.
Everybody upon the box-cars stood up to peer and wonder.