nd gave way and the back wheels churned up a spray of sand and dirty
water.

Curt snapped off the ignition and jumped out of the bus.

"We're stalled for keeps," he informed them, "but this is about as good
a place as we'll find. We'll start backfires and then when it gets bad,
we can get under a bank along this creek. There'll be water to help us
here."

Under Curt's dynamic orders, half a dozen backfires were started, the
men working like mad to clear away the underbrush and destroy all
inflammable material near the creek bank where they had decided to make
their stand.

There was little that Janet and Helen could do, but they insisted on
seizing old coats, wetting them in the stream, and using them to beat
out the flames of the backfires when they had spread far enough.

The burned area widened rapidly, but Curt spurred his workers on with
renewed pleas and cajoling. One of the cameramen, slipping away to the
bus for a minute, trained his camera on the scene and started grinding
away. The crest of the hill above them was now outlined in a strong,
crimson and the shadowy forms of the workers were visible as they
hastened from one backfire to another. Janet saw the cameraman working,
but she knew their work had progressed far enough so the absence of one
man would not make a great deal of difference. Then, too, she knew that
he might get some shots which would be invaluable in some film needing
good fire sequences.

Fortunately the bank they had selected had been heavily undercut by the
stream and would afford them protection. Curt set several of the men to
the task of digging further into the bank and they worked with
improvised tools taken from the bus.

Janet and Helen soaked the coats they had been using again and returned
to the task of beating down the backfires. Curt joined them for a
minute.

"Better get back under the bank. This thing is going to come down this
slope like a hurricane," he warned.

"We'll wait until the others start down," said Janet, but he took their
coats and shoved them toward the creek.

"Get going," he ordered, and his voice was firm.

They obeyed, for already the fire was starting down the slope and the
girls hastened to the creek bed.

The water was shallow, not more than six inches deep in any place and
the bottom was sandy. Helen slipped off her torn shoes and wiggled her
toes in the cool luxury of the water. Just then she forgot to worry all
about the fire in the plea