"Bring some buckets," he ordered to another group.
Carl made for the double doors, where a soldier was struggling to throw them apart.
"Here, keep those shut," he commanded. "Do you want to eat the place up with drafts?"
"We must keep it away from the plane," gasped Hawke, who had arrived a second before.
The small brigade had formed a double chain from the well to the machine shop. One line passed the filled buckets and the other returned them empty. Soldiers and Greasers were put to work.
"It's in the front," Fred announced.
Immediately Carl smashed in a front pane with his fist, for the window was locked on the inside.
"Shove that hose in here," said Fred, as the soldier came up with a small garden hose which gave forth a shallow spray of water.
Carl smashed in the companion window, and started to get inside.
"Here, hold on, Carl," protested Hawke. "That won't do."