Peter Pettigrew's prisoner

By NELSON S. BOND
Pettigrew captured a strange prisoner; one whose methods of sabotage were unique. He had a weird dust in a bag....
The man threw a handful of dust into Pettigrew's face.
So much, concluded Sergeant McCurdle, for delayed action bombs. Now, as to incendiaries, Mr. Pettigrew—
( Halt, you cowardly cur! rasped Peter Pettigrew to the sinister figure creeping from a dark covert of his imagination. Advance and give the countersign. What? You don't know it? I thought not! Then take that, you dirty Nazi spy, you! And that, and that, and THAT! )
Mister Pettigrew!
The daydream of Peter Pettigrew, student Air Warden, popped like a penny balloon. He started from his bench, pale eyes blinking bewilderedly. The enemy agent had disappeared. This was no blacked-out and vital defense zone, no strategically important military objective, but the warm, bright, all-too-familiar lecture room of the city Armory. All about him, giggling at his confusion, sat his fellow students, more than four score strong. Glaring at him wrathfully was the regular Army non-com assigned to training this volunteer brigade.
Well, Mr. Pettigrew, repeated Sergeant McCurdle in acid tones, if you've quite finished your little nap—?
Y-yes, sir! gulped Peter Pettigrew apologetically. I—I'm sorry, sir. I must have dozed off.
In the Army, growled McCurdle ominously, soldiers who doze off wake up in the clink! I'd like to see you—But never mind that now. Before you were so rudely awakened, Mr. Pettigrew, we were discussing bomb defense. Now, suppose you tell us the proper way of handling an incendiary bomb. Let's assume you are guarding a wooden warehouse filled with highly inflammable military stores.
An incendiary shell scores a direct hit; concussion knocks you out momentarily. When you come to, you learn that the bomb has exploded and is scattering gouts of flame around the building. What do you do?
I—er—I run to the water-hose, said Peter, and turn the nozzle to fine spray—