When at last they stopped for breath they found themselves about at the point where they had parted from their chums. As they came into the cleared space a flash lighted up the sky, flames went flickering, seemingly, from horizon to horizon, and lifted to the zenith. Then came the awful thunder of the explosion. The ground shook so that Jimmie went tumbling on his face. After the first mighty explosion others came in quick succession.
“That’s the little ones,” Jimmie cried, rolling over in the knee-deep grass to clutch at Ned’s knee. “Talk about your fourth of July.”
As he spoke a slab of stone weighing at least twenty pounds came through the air with a vicious whizz and struck a tree close to where the boy lay.
“If we don’t get out of here we’ll get our blocks knocked off,” Jimmie said.
“The shower is over,” Ned replied. “What were you running back for? If you had not met me, if I had gone out another way, you might have been right there when the explosion took place.”
“Then I’d ’a’ been sailin’ around the moon by now,” the boy grinned.
“Where is the captive?” demanded Ned.
“He went up in the air,” replied Jimmie. “I had me eagle eyes on him one second, and the next second he was gone. He didn’t shout, or shoot, or run, or do a consarned thing. He just leaked out. Where do you think he went?”
“I think,” Ned replied, “that you were looking back to see the explosion and he dodged into a thicket.”
“Well,” admitted Jimmie, “I did look back.”