As for Dick, Dave and Tom, their ears rang with the noise until they felt as though surely their ear-drums had been ruptured by the force of that awesome detonation.
An instant later all was quiet. Dick and his chums speedily realized that they had escaped actual injury, yet their legs shook so that they could hardly stand.
"Wh—-wh—-what was it?" asked Reade in accents that quivered in unison with his trembling legs.
"See here, fellows, we mustn't be fools," Dick cried chidingly. "We're not hurt, and Mr. Garwood is. Let's see what we can do for him."
"Do for me, will you?" groaned the injured one. "No, you won't. You boys keep your distance from me, or you're going to be worse scared than you are already. Don't imagine that I'm helpless, for I'm not. In me you behold the master of the world!"
"Confound him, I've a good mind to go away and let him have the world to himself," muttered Reade.
But Dick and Dave had already started toward the spot where Amos lay. The man scrambled to his feet, the old, hunted look coming into his eyes.
"You keep away from me!" he screamed. "Get away! Clear out! I don't want to hurt you. I wouldn't harm a fly. But I'm not going to allow any one near me!"
Dick ventured too near. Garwood swung his uninjured arm so unexpectedly that Prescott had no chance to get out of the way. He fell flat on the ground. Warned by the light in the eye of the world's master, Dick believed it prudent to roll several yards before be tried to get up.
"Say," blazed Darrin indignantly. "Are you going to stand for that?"