Laurence Donovan

“ Men of the logging crew crowded around, a new hope succeeding the black despair with which they had watched the crawling blaze. Jack had the pipes apart and the intake valve in place when Beth was brought in. His fractured leg did not prevent the old man from thinking.
“Grab down the canvas an’ souse it in the springs,” he directed. “Get the wet canvas an’ all th’ gunny sacks we’ve got onto the cars—when we get goin’, every man wrap himself up—it’ll likely be hotter’n blue hell, but the wet rags’ll help. ”

“ Although his face was tinged with a grayish pallor, old man Beth arose and stood ready while Jack unlatched the door. Jack saw that Beth did not look down and he knew why. Sheer grit is required to step off into nothingness. ”

“ He figured it would give the men more room to fight the blaze, if the wet canvas proved insufficient to safeguard them. With two men stoking the firebox, Jack tested the throttle. The dinky coughed and its four teetering wheels bit into the rails. They were beginning to move.
Some one shouted from the rear car. A brand had fired the woods directly behind them and the blaze was spreading. They were moving in the nick of time. Some of the men shouted again, and Beth called to Jack to stop. Jack could not hear distinctly, but when he had shut off the steam, Beth told him to wait for a minute. ”

“ Jack kept thinking of that.
“We gotta do it,” he affirmed, impatiently.
“Yeh,” agreed Nick at last, reluctantly. “An’ if we crash, it’s curtains for our jobs—if we get out.”
“Them boys must be facin’ hell up there right now,” said Beth. “They can see the blaze for miles. The dinky-engine will come hell-beltin’ down th’ grade through th’ cutover stuff—she might make it if we could only get her started. But th’ dinky’s settin’ on a mile of level track—gotta have that intake fixed ’fore they could fire ’er.” ”

“ By LAURENCE DONOVAN
“Slow timed fire bombs started the blaze—we run onto one of them that hadn’t exploded! Whoever done it knew a cross-fire would trap th’ men at the camp—”
Old Beth’s gaunt face worked with a grim tightening around his lips.
“Reckon you boys could fly ’round the fire ’fore it hits th’ camp. I ain’t ever been up in a plane, but I’ve heard you could drop a man anywhere with one of them parachutes—I’ll take a chance. We gotta put an intake valve on that engine, load th’ men an’ make a run for it down th’ mountain.” ”