Janet Hardy in Radio City. Wheeler Ruthe S.

back to the ranch we go,” decided the director, and again he called, “Everybody in!”

      Members of the company jammed their way into the bus and Curt took the wheel for the driver was too exhausted to handle the heavy vehicle.

      The smoke was thick now and the first flames were licking their way over the crest of the ridge far above them.

      With the motor roaring heavily, Curt threw in the gears and swung the big vehicle about in a sharp circle. Then, with the headlights vainly trying to bore through the almost stifling smoke, they raced back down the road.

      It was dangerous going, for Curt’s vision was cut down to less than three rods, but speed was essential now and they plunged through the smoky night at a reckless pace.

      Chapter Eight

      THE LINE GOES DEAD

      Lights in the interior of the bus were out now for Curt didn’t dare run the risk that they might interfere with his vision. The heavy vehicle swayed from side to side as they bounced over the winding road and Janet and Helen clung to each other for protection.

      Smoke was swirling across the road and the acrid fumes swept through the open windows of the bus, but there was no time now to close them.

      They raced out of the valley they had been in, shot up over a slight rise, and descended into another valley, the glare of the flames being lost to view for the time.

      “Think we’ll make it?” gasped Helen, clinging tightly to Janet’s right arm.

      “We’ve got to,” replied Janet. “The last shots for the picture are in the bus.”

      “I’m not worrying about the picture; it’s us,” retorted Helen. “My eyes hurt; so do my feet.”

      Janet couldn’t help smiling for Helen was very much matter of fact.

      There was a sharp report under the bus, like a gunshot or the backfire of the exhaust. But it was neither and the girls were thrown heavily against the side of the bus as the left rear tire let go.

      The heavy machine swayed dangerously with Curt fighting for control. The brakes screamed as they ground to a stop and Curt leaped out to survey the damage. The driver followed him and then Billy Fenstow followed.

      The driver turned on his flashlight and Janet could hear Curt’s muttered exclamation of disgust.

      “We can change; we’ve got a spare,” the driver said.

      “We’ve got to and we’ll have to work fast,” snapped Curt.

      Under the lashing directions of the cowboy star, other members of the company turned to and lent a hand. Tools were taken out, a big jack was placed under the rear axle, and the work started.