"Get the dynamite and detonators," he ordered.
With quick precision the men leaped to obey him, and then followed him back again to the scene of conflagration. The flames were gaining swift headway. Lives had been lost where people in frantic endeavor to save their few possessions had braved the fiery terror. The down town section of the small city was in ruins. The flames had reached the outskirts and were nearing the guncotton factory.
Grant stationed his men in this part.
"String those wires here," he shouted, dashing among them as they struggled to obey his orders. "Hurry! That's it," he called, lending a hand to a man whose fingers worked clumsily, "Now attach them to the detonators. Work fast boys. The fire is catching up to us! How's the dynamite?"
Above the roar of the steadily approaching flames the answer came back.
"All wired up. Ready to blow up as soon as the plungers are attached."
"Any caps to them?"
"Fulminate of mercury on every one."
"All right. Rush it. Let me know the minute you're ready!"
A moment of waiting followed, then a man shouted: