Another bounce and he turned a somersault, landing on the turf at one side.
A cheer went up from the rescuers. Joe had been saved, and he had saved the life of the magician in a thrilling manner. Another cheer rang out. But there was no time for more. There was still the fire to fight.
Joe’s chums gathered about him, eager to clasp his hand, to clap him on the back, to utter words of praise. But he had but one thought—or, rather, two.
“Is the professor all right?” he asked eagerly.
“Yes,” some one answered. “He’d only fainted. He’s all right now, and not burned a bit, thanks to your wet clothes.”
“Where are my clothes?” demanded Joe. “This isn’t exactly a bathing beach.”
“You can’t wear your things,” a fireman informed our hero. “They’re badly scorched. Here, wrap yourself in this blanket until you can get home,” and he extended one of the horse-coverings. Joe accepted it gratefully.
“Better get back from here,” another fireman advised. “This place is going, and it’s full of powder.”
The crowd, as well as Joe and his chums, took the hint.
But the main factory did not go up. The fire-fighters rallied in force around it, seeing that the other buildings were doomed, and the bigger part of the plant was saved. Luckily enough, too, as had it exploded the force would have been felt a long distance. The light and flimsy buildings burned quickly into ashes, and the explosions of fireworks grew less frequent. The material in the main building was spoiled by water, but that was better than having the fire reach it.