"Don't slow up! Don't slow up!" shouted Tad. "Keep going!"
"I am. Wat's matter with you?"
"I don't see what you had to come tumbling into this mess for," objected Tad.
"Didn't tumble in. Rode in. Came to help you—"
"Precious lot of help you'll be to me. Lucky if we're not both burned with our boots on. See! The flame's narrowing in on us. More steam, Chunky! More steam!" urged Tad.
"Can't. Blow up the boiler if I do," Stacy could not be other than humorous, even under their present trying situation.
"That's better than burning out your fires, and it's quicker too—"
All at once, Chunky uttered a terrible howl. His pony had stepped into a hole and gone down floundering in the long grass, Chunky himself having been hurled over the animal's head, landing several feet in advance.
"Help! Help!"
The rest was lost as the fat boy's face plowed the earth filling mouth, eyes and nostrils.