“And we are glad of it,” declared Fred, and the others nodded in approval.
The elderly man said that his name was Jed Kessler, and that he lived on the outskirts of Haven Point. He knew very little about Colby Hall, however, for previous to being employed by the Hasley Shell Loading Company he had worked around the docks at Hixley, at one end of the lake. So much the boys learned from him when they had rowed out of the pall of smoke and the rain of fire and could breathe freely and in comfort.
“Have you any idea what started that fire?” questioned Jack, when they were headed for one of the docks at Haven Point.
“I’ve got my idea, yes. But I don’t know whether it’s correct or not,” replied Jed Kessler. “Of course, any kind of a slight accident in a place like that might set things to going. But I know one thing, and that is very important, I think.”
“What is that?” questioned Randy.
“The first explosion took place down the railroad track, in one of the cars loaded with shells, while the second explosion, which came less than half a minute later, occurred in one of the supply houses.”
“Was the supply house near the car where the first explosion happened?” queried Jack.
“No. The two places are at least five hundred feet apart.”
“In that case, it isn’t likely that the first explosion brought on the second, is it?” questioned Andy.
“It didn’t!” was the prompt answer. “Those two explosions had nothing to do with each other—except in one way,—and that is that they were both started by the same person or persons,” declared Jed Kessler emphatically.