Jerry began to back away as if he were confronting a poisonous snake. “Imagine sitting on an A-bomb, fellows! We gotta do something!”
Sandy looked around grimly at the flames converging on them. “Right now we’re in a lot more danger from that fire than we are from any bomb. Come on, Jerry, let’s get busy with the shovels. Quiz, you start lighting the backfires. I picked up a signal flare down below along with these tools. It’s over by the hoes. You should be able to ignite this dry grass easily with that.”
With the backfires blazing strongly around the parapet of earth that Sandy and Jerry had erected along the rim of the pit, the boys arranged themselves in a prone position in the center of the pit. Its sides shielded them from the direct blast of the flames, and the earth they were lying on was cool and comforting. As an added precaution against flying embers, they covered themselves from foot to neck with sand.
“Now I know how a mole feels,” Sandy said.
“I wish I were a mole,” Jerry answered. “I wouldn’t stop burrowing until I reached China.”
Quiz heaved a handful of sand at a burning brand that had dropped a few feet away. “I don’t know what you’re so worried about. We’re as snug and safe here as three bugs in a rug.”
“Four bugs in a rug,” Jerry amended gravely. “You forgot the bomb. For all we know that baby might be all set to blow this very minute.”
“Don’t be silly,” Quiz scoffed.
“It’s not so silly,” Jerry defended his position. “You heard what General Steele said. Anything is possible. Even he couldn’t predict what might happen.”
“Gee, I wonder what Uncle Russ is doing right now. He’s probably wondering how he’s going to break the news to our folks,” Sandy said.