“Looks like we’re going to be safe here unless the wind swings around a little more,” he observed.
“I’m worried about the folks. They know what time we were going to start back and they’ll be frantic when they hear about the fire,” said Helen.
“Phone line may still be up,” said Curt. “Go in the house and see if you can get a call through.”
Helen turned and hastened toward the house while Curt rejoined the men, who were staying near the bus. The driver was buried under the hood again, making sure that there would be no recurrence of their previous engine trouble.
Janet followed Helen into the ranchhouse. The phone, an old-fashioned wall instrument, was in the dining room. There was a large plate of cookies, evidently left from supper, on the table, and neither girl could resist helping herself to several. Helen munched them as she cranked the telephone and listened for an answer from the operator in the nearest town. At last the response came.
Helen, talking rapidly, gave her father’s address and phone number in Hollywood. In less than five minutes the call was through and she heard her father’s voice on the other end of the wire.
“Hello, Dad. This is Helen.”
“Where are we? Back at the ranch. No, we’re safe enough. The bus broke down and we had to turn back when the fire cut us off.
“Now don’t worry, Dad. Curt Newsom says he thinks the fire will swing around us. If it doesn’t, we can take to the hills back of the ranch. We’ll come through all right. Tell Mother not to worry.
“What’s that——?”