the same time they saw a column of dense black smoke towering toward the sky.
"There's the firel" cried Betty, "Do hurry, Uncle Dick!"
Obediently the little car let out a notch, and they drew up beside a group of men, still some distance from the fire.
"Chandler's come," said one of these respectfully to Mr. Gordon. "The five-ton truck brought up a load of sand, and they're only waiting for you to give the word."
The speaker was introduced to Betty and Bob as Dave Thorne, a well foreman, and at a word from Mr. Gordon he jumped on the running board of the car and they proceeded another mile. This brought them to the load of sand dumped on one side of the road and the powerful high-pressure hose that had been brought up on the train that morning. The heat from the burning well was intense, though they were still some distance from the actual fire.
"Now, Betty, watch and you'll see a fire put out," commanded her uncle, getting out of the car and going forward, first cautioning both young people to stay where they were and not get in any one's way.
A half dozen men lifted the heavy hose, turned the nozzle toward the column of smoke, and a shower of fine sand curved high in the air. For
