"I should say so!" agreed Tom. "I can almost smell the rubber
of my tires burning. But we're out of the worst of it."

"Lucky she didn't take the notion to blow up as we were
passing," grimly commented Ned. "Where are you aiming for now?"

"Mary's house. It's just beyond here. But we can't see it on
account of the smoke."

A few seconds later they had passed through the black pall that
was slashed here and there with red slivers of flame, and, coming
to a more open space, Ned and Tom cleared their eyes of smoke.

"I guess there's no immediate danger," remarked Tom, as he saw
that the home of Mary Nestor and the houses near her residence
were, for the time being, out of the path of the flames. The
explosion had blown down part of the blazing factory nearest the
residential section, and the flames had less to feed on.

But the conflagration was still a fierce one. Not half the big
factory was yet consumed, and every now and then there would
sound dull, booming reports, causing nervous screams from the
women who were out in front of their homes, while the men would
crouch down as though fearing a shower of fiery embers.

"Oh, Tom, I'm so glad you're here!" cried Mary, as the runabout
drew up in front of her home. "Do you think it will be much
worse?" and she clutched his arm, as he got down to speak to her.

"I think the worst is over, as far as you people here are