As they approached the river, the boys crossed the old yard siding. Stumbling over the rails, partially blinded with the now stinging smoke, both suddenly ran into something, and fell in a heap. Scrambling to their feet, they found an old push-car, with low sides.
Alex uttered a cry. “Jack, why can’t we make a dash down the spur with this old car—pushing it? And say, couldn’t we lift it onto the main-line rails, and run all the way home?”
Jack hesitated. “Look there,” he said, pointing to the wall of smoke into which the track disappeared a hundred yards away. “And wouldn’t there be burned-down trees across the rails?”
“No; not yet. The fire hasn’t been burning long enough. And as to the smoke, it’ll soon be just as bad on the river,” Alex declared.
“All right. Let us try it. But first, let us jump in the river and get good and wet,” suggested Jack.
“Good idea! Come on!
“Or; wait!” exclaimed Alex. “Another idea. There is an old rubbish pile just over here, and a lot of tin cans. Let us get some, and fill them with water—to keep our handkerchiefs wet, to breathe through.”
They turned aside, quickly found and secured several empty cans each, and ran on. Reaching the water, they dropped the cans on the bank, and plunged in bodily.
As Alex had said, the water was intensely cold, and despite the relief to their eyes from the smoke, they clambered out again immediately, hastily filled the tins, and only pausing to tie their dripping handkerchiefs over their mouths, dashed back for the siding.
“You help me start her, Jack,” directed Alex as they placed the cans of water in the forward end of the car, “and when we reach the edge of the woods, jump in. I’ll run it the first spell, then you can relieve me. That way we can keep it going at a good clip.