“Grab this sand from the girls!” yelled Jack to Ed, Walter and Norton, who, at that moment came out in Jack’s car. “Throw it on the blazing gasoline! What kept you?”
“Your car wouldn’t crank!” cried Walter. “It’s all right now, though–just scorched a little in the rear!”
The three lads, Norton clinging to the run-board, got the car to safety, and then raced back, grabbed the sand from Belle, Bess and Eline, and followed Jack into the garage, which was now under a pall of smoke.
The tin tops of the extinguishers were yanked off, and the chemical powder sprinkled toward the blaze. Sand was also cast on it, but the fire had spread more than the boys had thought. The choking fumes, too, drove the amateur blaze-fighters back.
Again Cora came running from the house through the drenching rain.
“I can’t get the fire department on the wire!” she cried. “Something is wrong with the telephone!”
“It’s the storm, I guess,” answered Jack, coming to the door of the old barn that had been converted into a garage. He had to have a breath of air.
“Oh, can we help?” cried Eline.
“Better stay out,” gasped Ed, as he too, came for a little relief. “I guess we can keep it from spreading.”
By this time several men had run in from the street.