Hurrying back to the farmhouse they drew the tricycle from the shed and tried its paces over the yard. It was rusty and stiff, but a little oil eased the parts, and Templeton was delighted with his number four. The tank of which Mr. Trenchard had spoken was made of galvanised iron, and had several holes pierced in each side.
"The very thing!" cried Templeton. "We'll make some more holes at different heights, Tom."
"What for?"
"My idea is to rig up some trays inside the tank, one above another; there are several old sheets of iron lying about. They'll hold the soot and combustibles."
"By George! we forgot to ask Mother Trenchard to bring some firelighters."
"Never mind about them for the moment. We'll bore holes just above the trays, and put in some straw soaked in paraffin, and light it. Then when we start there'll be a fine draught through the holes."
"Splendid! But shan't we be fairly choked?"
"Of course we'll rig up the tank behind us; the smoke will all blow back."
Eves eyed the tricycle dubiously.
"It'll be the dickens of a job to fix this heavy tank," he said.