“It must be hard work,” decided Mary.
“It is—hot, hard, dirty work. Well, we’ve got a pretty good view of this fire now, and I must say I don’t like the looks of it,” remarked Tom.
They were fairly over the burning area now. Below them were the snapping, leaping flames and the billowing clouds of smoke. More men and boys were hastening up to do what they could to combat the conflagration.
“If there should only come a rain now it would settle the fate of this fire,” remarked the young inventor.
Tom looked up and across the sky. It was blue in nearly every quarter—too blue and beautiful to suit those who wanted water to pour down from the heavens.
“There’s a little haze in the west,” remarked the lad, at length. “It might indicate the coming of a thunderstorm. That’s what is needed—a sudden, drenching thunderstorm. A gentle shower would help, but a regular cloudburst is needed. Of course, a sizzling rain would put the fire out in time, but it would take too long.”
“Oh, I do hope it rains!” exclaimed Mary.
Tom guided the Hummer over the very center of the fire, which seemed to be burning in an area of forest and brush country several miles square in extent. Of course in the very center of the blaze no attempt was being made to fight it; that would have been too dangerous. It was on the edges of the ever-increasing circle that the men and boys were making the attack.
Dropping down a bit, so Mary could see better, Tom pointed out where scores of the fire-fighters were trying to beat the flames to earth with long-handled wet bundles of rags, which from time to time they dipped in brooks and ponds.
“It looks like a losing fight,” sighed the girl. “Oh, Tom, suppose the fire reaches Shopton!”