THE LINE GOES DEAD
Lights in the interior of the bus were out now for Curt didn’t dare run the risk that they might interfere with his vision. The heavy vehicle swayed from side to side as they bounced over the winding road and Janet and Helen clung to each other for protection.
Smoke was swirling across the road and the acrid fumes swept through the open windows of the bus, but there was no time now to close them.
They raced out of the valley they had been in, shot up over a slight rise, and descended into another valley, the glare of the flames being lost to view for the time.
“Think we’ll make it?” gasped Helen, clinging tightly to Janet’s right arm.
“We’ve got to,” replied Janet. “The last shots for the picture are in the bus.”
“I’m not worrying about the picture; it’s us,” retorted Helen. “My eyes hurt; so do my feet.”
Janet couldn’t help smiling for Helen was very much matter of fact.
There was a sharp report under the bus, like a gunshot or the backfire of the exhaust. But it was neither and the girls were thrown heavily against the side of the bus as the left rear tire let go.
The heavy machine swayed dangerously with Curt fighting for control. The brakes screamed as they ground to a stop and Curt leaped out to survey the damage. The driver followed him and then Billy Fenstow followed.