“How is it now?” came Tom’s voice, as he spoke from the deck of the balloon through a megaphone.

“Almost out,” answered Mr. Damon.  “A little more sand, Tom.”

The eccentric man had caught up a piece of paper and, rolling it into a cone, made an improvised megaphone of that.

“Haven’t much more sand left,” was Tom’s comment, as he sent down a last shower.  “That will have to do.  Hustle that carbide and other explosive stuff out of there now, while you have a chance.”

“That’s it!” cried Ned, who caught his chums meaning.  “Come on, Koku.  There’s work for you.”

“Me like work,” answered the giant, stretching out his great arms.

The last of the sand had completely smothered the fire, and Tom, observing from aloft that his work was well done, moved away in the dirigible, sending it to a landing space some little distance away from the shed whence it had arisen.  It was impossible to drop it back again through the roof of the hangar, as the balloon was of such bulk that even a little breeze would deflect it so that it could not be accurately anchored.  But Tom had it under very good control, and soon it was being held down on the ground by some of his helpers.

As all the sand ballast had been allowed to run out Tom was obliged to open the gas-valves and let some of the lifting vapor escape, or he could not have descended.

“Come on, now!” cried the inventor, as he leaped from the deck of his sky craft.  “Let’s clean out the red shed.  That fire is only smothered, and there may be sparks smoldering under that sand, which will burst into flame, if we’re not careful.  Let’s get the explosives out of the way.”

“Bless my insurance policy, yes,” exclaimed Mr. Damon.  “That was a fine move of yours.”

“It was the only way I could think of to put out the fire,” Tom replied.  “I knew water was out of the question, and sand was the next thing.”

“But I didn’t know where to get any until I happened to think of the ballast bags of my dirigible.  Then I knew, if I could get above the fire, I could do the trick.  I had to fly pretty high, though, as the fire was hot, and I was afraid it might explode the gas bag and wreck me.”

“You were taking a chance,” remarked Ned.

“Oh, well, you have to take chances in this business,” observed Tom, with a smile.  “Now, then, let’s finish this work.”

The sand, falling from the ballast bags of the dirigible, had so effectually quenched the fire that it was soon cool enough to permit close approach.  Koku, Tom and some of the men who best knew how to handle the explosives, were soon engaged in the work of salvage.

“I wish I could help you, Tom,” said his aged father.  “I don’t seem able to do anything but stand here and look on,” and he gazed about him rather sadly.

“Never you mind, Dad!” Tom exclaimed.  “We’ll get along all right now.  You’d better go up to the house.  Mr. Damon will go with you.”