“The stuff must be pretty well out by this time,” said the conductor; “and when it gets low and the fire works up into the tank there will be an explosion. It’s awful stuff for fire.”
Fic was standing by the front wheel of the buggy and saw the superintendent’s face grow pale by the flickering light.
“Can’t you move the car?”
“We can’t get near enough to couple, and the truck is about burned through. We moved the other cars, but we can’t move the buildings.”
“Why not bring up the gravel-train from the lower switch and fill up from below until the fire is buried.”
“There won’t be time. The tank’s nearly empty now. It’s been burning all night.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” answered the chief. “Those tanks hold a lot, and it doesn’t take much naphtha to make a big blaze. What I’m afraid of is that it will explode while it is half full, and scatter the burning stuff all over the yard. Or else it will burn a week, and stop all the work in the yards while we are waiting for it to burst! That will never do.”
Fic had been doing a lot of thinking while this hasty consultation went on. He had not studied his physics for nothing, and he was sure he had the key to the problem.
“Please, Mr. Sanderson, may I speak?”