Cora came running out of the house, carrying long tin extinguishers, one in each hand, and one under her right arm. She had just bought a new lot, and had intended hanging them in the garage, but had forgotten it.
“These will be just the thing!” she cried. “Don’t be frightened! There’s not much gasoline in the barn. If we can get out the cars—”
“Something must be the matter!” cried Bess. “The boys–they are in there yet–they may be overcome!”
As if to deny this startling suggestion Jack fairly shot out of the smoke in the Flyaway–the car of the twins.
“They have left their own car to the last!” gasped Belle.
“They had to!” Cora panted. “They could only take them as they stood, you know. They were in line. Mine was first, then yours. Oh Jack! is it very bad?”
“A mean little blaze, Sis! Did you ’phone in an alarm?” He wiped his streaming eyes, and, bringing the car up alongside the Whirlwind, leaped out to go back to his chums.
“Here! Take these extinguishers!” his sister cried. “I’ll get the department in a minute!”
She tossed the tin tubes to Jack, who, catching them, ran back toward the barn. It was raining harder than ever now, but no one seemed to mind it. The girls were totally oblivious of their smart gowns, now badly bedraggled.
“Take this sand!” wailed Belle. “I don’t know what to do with it!”