“Fire? Where?” The young man seemed surprised.
“Look.” She led him to the opposite corner of the dock, “See that red spot?”
“Fire, all right,” the other agreed. “Will they get it out?”
“Who knows?” There was a sombre note in the girl’s voice. “Just think! All this beauty, and that fire!”
“I am thinking,” said the young man soberly. “Tell me about it.”
Florence did tell him, told of the day’s battle, told it with all the drama and feeling of her emotional nature.
“Say-e-e!” the young man exclaimed. “That will be a grand spot on my program! Will you come to New York?”
“New—New York!” she stammered, “On your program!”
“Sure,” he laughed, “I’m Tim O’Hara. I plan and prepare radio programs. Just now I’m working on one to be called ‘Adventurers’ Club of the Air.’ Many people who have had a real adventure will get a trip to New York, all expenses paid, and a grand chance to tell the story of their adventures to the nation, coast to coast, seventy-nine stations. You’ve had a real adventure, why not come?”
“Oh!” Florence gasped. Then, “No—no—I couldn’t. Not now. Perhaps not for months. There’s going to be a battle, a terrific battle. I’m sure of it, and we—we must do our part.”