"Feyther," he yelled, "fire bain't out. 'Tis blazing worse, and ricks be ramping down along like giant Goliath!"
"'Tis a true word, save us all!" cried the baker. "What in the name——"
"Now, sonnies, haul away," cried the smith. "Ricks hev staddles but no legs, as fur as I do know. 'Tis the wind blowing the smoke down along. Now, all together."
The windings of the road, and the hedges on each side, prevented them from getting a clear view of this singular phenomenon. All that they were aware of was a dense cloud of black smoke approaching them very rapidly. They had just restarted the manual engine when, round the bend just ahead, the tricycle shot into view with a huge trail of smoke behind it.
"Sakes alive!" gasped the smith.
The children yelled, and fled down the road. The men, after an instant's dismayed irresolution, scattered up the banks into the hedges, leaving the engine standing half across the road. Noakes, on whose face a dark flush had gathered as he recognised Eves, backed into a hazel and flourished his fists.
Templeton, who was steering, tried to turn the machine into the hedge before it reached the manual. But he was a shade too late; the off wheel fouled the engine; the tricycle spun round; its riders were flung into the hedge, and the trays, parting company with the tank as it overturned, were distributed in several directions, bestowing a good portion of their noisome contents impartially among the members of the fire brigade.
"ITS RIDERS WERE FLUNG INTO THE HEDGE."
The inventors picked themselves up, rubbed their elbows, and approached the discomfited villagers, who, coughing and spluttering, were now descending into the road. Templeton looked serious; Eves wore a broad grin.