Ten days—sometimes it seemed like an endless length of time; then again it vanished like magic and she had a feeling that this might be the case.
Some members of the company left the bus and walked around to stretch their legs; the others remained quietly in their seats, only a few of them talking for they were glad the strain of making the picture was at an end.
Janet sniffed the late afternoon air. There seemed to be a faint odor of smoke, but she decided some of the men in the company must be smoking nearby.
The heat abated somewhat as they waited for the driver to repair the engine and a sharp breeze swept down out of the hills sending little swirls of dust dancing along the winding road ahead of them.
Helen leaned close to her companion.
“Smell smoke?” she asked.
“Not now, but I thought I did a few minutes ago,” replied Janet.
“I’m sure I can now,” went on Helen, sniffing intently.
Janet thought she caught another whiff of smoke, but she couldn’t be sure.
Curt Newsom, who had been trying to help repair the engine, came back along the bus. His face was smudged with grime and dirt and his hands were covered with grease. He raised one of them and motioned for Janet and Helen to join him. The girls left their seats and walked down the bus, Curt meeting them at the doorway.