"You'll call us, of course, if anything happens?" asked Dave.
"If another powder mill blows up," chuckled Tom, "you won't need to be called. You'll be out here on the jump."
Dave, Dan and Harry thereupon turned in. Knowing that others were on watch the trio in the tent were all sound asleep within five minutes.
Only the sighing of the wind through the trees, the occasional splash of a leaping fish in the lake, and the subdued, musical hum of tiny night insects came to the ears of Dick and his fellow watchers.
Greg was soon yawning. Tom, for want of something better to do, began describing all over again the strange apparition he and Dalzell had seen that afternoon. Greg, finding the "creeps" in Tom's narration to be stronger than the interest, shivered and withdrew to a spot beyond the reach of Tom's whispers.
Not long after Greg, his back propped against a tree trunk, was sound asleep.
Tom liked to talk. Prescott was a good listener, putting in a question now and then.
So at least another hour passed. Then——-
Boo-oom!
That crash was so close at hand that it seemed as though the earth must open.