Dick took the fragment of paper, reading therefrom the title,
"The Sploderite Pyrotechnic Co."
"Nothing but fireworks, after all," ejaculated Danny Grin in great contempt, now that it was broad daylight.
"But I would like to have seen the fireworks before they blew up," retorted Tom Reade. "They were surely the loudest I ever heard. I don't believe anything but the heaviest cannon could make as much noise."
"Whoever touched off fireworks like these," uttered Dave, "didn't care a hang whether or not he set the woods on fire."
"There was no fire danger," Dick rejoined. "The grass and everything in these forests is as green as can be. But let's look about and see if we can't find evidences of the explosion at this point."
"There ought to be a good-sized hole in the ground right under where this piece of fireworks exploded," Tom guessed. "We ought to find, not far from here, some evidences of what explosives can do in ripping up the ground."
"Now I remember that one of the explosions in the night sent something whizzing through the air over our heads."
"Pieces of the pasteboard enclosing the mine, bomb or whatever kind of fireworks it was," Dick suggested. "But let's look for other debris around here."
That single bit of scorched paper, however, was all that any of them could find.
Tom discovered a spot where he thought the ground had been blackened, but Dave thought the blackened appearance due to humus soil, and so nothing came of the argument.