“Have you called a fire company?” the editor asked.
“I’ve called, but it won’t do any good,” she answered. “The barn will be gone before they can get here.”
With a high wind whipping the flames, Penny and her father knew that the woman spoke the truth. Already the fire had such a start that even had water been available, the barn could not have been saved.
“Maybe I can get out the truck for you!” Mr. Parker offered.
As he swung open the barn doors, a wave of heat rushed into his face. Coughing and choking, he forced his way into the smoke filled interior, unaware that Penny was at his side. Seeing her a moment later, he tried to send her back.
“You can’t get the truck out without me to help push,” she replied, refusing to retreat. “Come on, we can do it!”
The shiny red truck was a fairly light one and stood on an inclined cement floor which sloped toward the exit. Nevertheless, although Penny and her father exerted every iota of their combined strength, they could not start it moving.
“Maybe the brake is on!” Mr. Parker gasped, running around to the cab. “Yes, it is!”
Pushing once more, they were able to start the truck rolling. Once in motion its own momentum carried it down the runway into the open, a safe distance from the flames.
“How about the crated melons?” Penny asked, breathing hard from the strenuous exertion.