No one halted to answer, least of all Max. He had a fierce sort of strength that outmatched sturdy Sydney and even big, strong Billy. He drove his shovel deeper, piled it higher, and plied it faster than any one else. The perspiration poured from him, yet he shivered with dread of what they should presently see.
“Out of my way!” he cried to a hysterical woman who ran in front of him, and did no work herself. “Take her away, Billy!” he demanded in a voice that would be obeyed, the long, rapid sweep of his arms never halting, never slacking, indeed, moving more swiftly with each dip of the shovel. He did not see or know that the woman slipped back at his first fierce word.
It seemed hours, in reality it was less than minutes, when a fragment of a little skirt was uncovered.
“Here she is!” Max shouted wildly; and the boys worked with more fury, till presently three pairs of hands drew the limp little figure to the light, apparently dead.
“Here she is!” Max shouted wildly
A motor car was standing alone in front of a house near by. While they were working, Max had noticed it and planned for it.
“One of you run and crank up that machine. Quick!” he ordered.
“I will! I know it; it belongs to one of the neighbors.” Billy was off, shouting back as he ran.