With that Ralph dashed madly away. Judge of the amazement of his father, who must by this time have begun to fear the world was awry, and that even his own boy had lost his mind in the mad turmoil.
“Tell me, what does it all mean, Rob?” he demanded, with quivering voice.
“The town’s all afire, sir, and this wind is whipping the flames so that it begins to look as if everything would go,” the boy told him, as he proceeded to get in the car. “I’m only going to turn around so as to save a minute of time. We must speed back there again as fast as we can make it.”
“But why did you come out here?” questioned the puzzled farmer.
“To get some of your dynamite,” Rob explained. “Don’t you see, sir, there is a chance, by blowing up that old building standing between the mill section of Wyoming and the rest of the place, we can make a breach, and keep the fire from getting across to the factories and mills.”
“A clever scheme, and I warrant that it came out of your head, Rob Blake!” exclaimed the other, in admiration.
“Never mind about that, sir. It is the last desperate resort in a city fire that is being spread by a high wind. If only we can get back in time, I believe it may work.”
“I’ll go with you, Rob!” said the farmer, seized with the fascination of the thing. He immediately rushed toward the house to get a hat and coat.
Rob was sorry he had taken this stand. He hoped the old gentleman would not delay them in any way. Then, again, if an accident happened, it would be too bad to have him in the car.
Rob had taken the time before they left town, and he again consulted his little nickel watch. He could hardly believe his eyes when he found that twelve minutes only had elapsed since they said good-bye to Tubby and the other fellows. This meant that Ralph must have made tremendous time of it while racing madly along that country road. No wonder they had been jumped up and down continually, as they struck uneven places in the turnpike.