“Impossible,” his chum broke in, “for that blaze started on or near the roof.”
Mr. Lewis had now joined the others, and his delight was beyond words when he saw that the cars had been removed in time to avert disaster.
“I kept thinking that I could find the key,” he said. “I finally did, but not in time to save them.”
Gradually the flames were diminishing, and if the firemen kept up the good work it promised to be over in a short time.
“Good thing that your garage is quite a distance over,” remarked Joe to his friend. “One is bad enough without having two on fire.”
Finally the last blaze was extinguished amid a rousing cheer from the crowd, and, after closer examination inside, the firemen left the scene, and the crowd gradually thinned until no one was left but Bob, Joe, their fathers, and a few neighbors.
“Covered by insurance, isn’t it?” inquired Bob of Mr. Lewis, as they cast a resentful look at the charred beams of the structure that had once been a fine garage.
“Yes, but this may delay our expedition to Brazil for a week or two until I can look after the reconstruction of it. That is”—he glanced at Mr. Holton—“unless your father objects.”
“Not in the least,” came from that individual. “In fact,” he went on, “that is about the only way out.”