“Hello! what’s this?” he exclaimed; “Oh! I thought at first it was another tool; but seems like it’s only an old stick of dirty gray mud. Queer how that could a got in this bag, ain’t it? Whatever did them yeggmen want carryin’ hard mud around with ’em, I wonder?”
He drew his hand back, evidently with the intention of throwing the article into the blaze, when a hand clutched his wrist, and the voice of Thad, a bit husky, sounded close to his ear:
“Hold on! don’t you think of tossing that into the fire, Step Hen! Why, are you crazy? Didn’t you ever see such a thing before in your life. No wonder Allan, there, was nearly scared to death when he saw what you meant to do; because Step Hen, this stick of innocent mud, as you called it, is really dynamite!”
Step Hen weakly allowed his hand to open, and the scoutmaster possessed himself of the deadly four-inch stick of explosive.
CHAPTER V.
THE TELL-TALE TRACKS.
“Dynamite!” echoed Giraffe as his face blanched. “And the silly was just goin’ to give it a heave into the fire. Great governor! what would have happened to the Silver Fox Patrol if he had?”
“Please don’t mention it, Giraffe,” said poor Step Hen, weakly, “However was I to know what it was, when I hadn’t ever seen such a thing before in all my life?”
“Well,” remarked Thad, grimly, “that’s the time you should have remembered that a scout must always be prepared to think for himself, and observe too. I heard something of what was said as I stood here, watching. You had guessed easily enough that these were the tools with which bank burglars break into safes. And since you read the papers, Step Hen, you must surely know that they often use dynamite to burst open the lock of a safe. You never stopped to think, that’s the trouble. All you had to do would be to say to yourself, ‘now, what would thieves be likely to have this for, because it must enter into their business?’ and the chances were ten to one you’d have guessed it, right away. Think twice after this, Step Hen, before you do a rash thing like that.”
The scoutmaster spoke more sternly than was his wont when dealing with those who were under his charge; because he had been horrified and thrilled when he realized the terrible danger that hovered over them all, should Step Hen manage to give the innocent looking stick a toss into the fire, before he could leap alongside, and stay his arm.
Perhaps the dynamite might not have exploded before he could with a frantic effort dislodge it from the burning brands; but the chances of its going off were legion, and he could never afterwards think of the incident without a shudder.