rack at the rear.

"Not much air in it," he grumbled.

"There never is," snapped Curt, "but you know how to use a pump."

Billy Fenstow seized the pump, fastened the hose to the valve on the
tire, and bent his tired body to the task of increasing the air pressure
in the big tire.

It was a tedious, wracking job, and the men alternated, working at top
speed for a minute, then giving way to another fresher one.

Curt, scanning the horizon above the ridge, urged them to greater haste.

"Fire's getting close," he warned. "We've got to get under way."

Billy Fenstow unfastened the pump and Curt seized the big steel wheel
with its huge casing. Other willing hands helped him get it on the axle.
Anxious fingers sped the bolts into place and they tightened them as
rapidly as possible.

"Get going!" Curt yelled at the driver.

"How about the jack?"

"Never mind that. Throw her in gear and she'll come off. That fire's
coming fast now."

As though in answer to Curt's warning, the flames shot over the top of
the nearest ridge and started down. They seemed to be racing now with
the speed of a greyhound, leaping from thicket to thicket with
unbelievable rapidity.

Janet and Helen, clinging together on the back seat, watched it with
fascinated eyes. The fire was a living, advancing thing that might
surround and swallow them in its flaming greed. The thought sent a
deadening chill through Janet and for a moment she closed her eyes to
the red spectacle.

The motor of the bus roared again as Curt trod heavily on the starter.
The big vehicle pulsated with power and there was the crash of gears as
they lurched ahead and the left rear wheel dropped off the jack.

Like a frightened elephant the bus leaped forward, its headlights once
more boring through the smoke-laden night air.

Curt drove with reckless abandon, tramping the accelerator down almost
to the floor boards. His passengers were flung from one side of the
lunging vehicle to another, but they knew that only in speed now lay
their hope for salvation and none of them cried out as their bruised
bodies were flung back and forth.

Janet and Helen managed to wedge themselves in a corner where, by
clinging together, they could escape with only a minimum of bouncing
about.

Suddenly the road straightened out and the smoke thinned. Janet
recognized where they were. It was the last half mile which led back to
the ranch where they had completed shooting the new picture