Jode could be seen at the bottom of the slope. He had at last discovered that the coyote dog was no longer at his heels. Standing in the trail, he looked upward, and, like Frank and his chums, and the colonel, witnessed the gallant struggle his half brother was making.
The work Darrel was doing should have been Lenning’s. That fact could not escape the boy at the foot of the slope. What his thoughts were, in the circumstances, may easily be imagined.
“Good work, Curly!” shouted Merriwell. “You’ll make it, old man!”
This encouragement, coming in Merriwell’s familiar voice, probably carried a big surprise for Darrel. He had no time for surprises, however. Close to the ledge, he flung himself over at full length upon the stones and reached for the fuse.
The blaze had eaten its way to the very mouth of the drilled hole. Darrel dug down into the aperture with his fingers, searing his flesh as he pinched out the fire; then, with a stifled groan, he fell over on his back and lay silent and still.
“We’ll be with you in a minute, colonel,” shouted Frank cheerily, once more beginning to descend. “Darrel has prevented a blow-up, and now everything is going to be all right.”
“Yes,” came from the colonel, in a strained voice that was none too steady, “you’re right about that, Merriwell. I’ll make it my business to see that everything is all right—for Ellis.”
Clancy and Ballard had likewise started down the side of the gulch wall. A tremendous relief had been experienced by both the boys when they had seen Darrel reach the fuse.
“We’ll be down there in a brace of shakes, Chip,” sang out Clancy as he saw Merriwell step to the ledge and move toward the colonel.
Frank was kneeling beside Darrel when Clancy and Ballard reached the ledge.