“What’s that?” cried Miss Potter.
“Something’s happened,” exclaimed Larry, his reportorial instinct on the alert at once. “I’ll see what it is. You had better sit still.”
“No, I want to come with you,” she insisted. “I like to know how you reporters work.”
“Very well,” assented Larry. As they walked toward the end of the car a guard entered.
“What is it?” inquired the young reporter.
“Fire just ahead of us,” was the answer. “The flames are shooting up near the track, and we can’t get past. We’ve got to back up to the station we just left.”
There was no excitement as yet, and soon the passengers had left the train, and descended to the street to continue their trips in surface cars, or the subway.
“I think I’d better go down to that fire,” spoke Larry, with a desire to serve his paper. “It looks like a big one,” he added, as he saw clouds of black smoke just ahead. Flames also could be observed, curling above the elevated structure.
“May I come?” asked Miss Potter eagerly. “I won’t get in your way, and maybe I can help you.”
“Come along,” invited our hero, thinking that not every reporter could have a millionaire’s daughter for an assistant.