The man was bending over, watching it. He seemed to be fanning the fuse to a blaze. Then, all at once, he started on a run toward shore.
“I guess he’s lighted it,” observed Mr. Newton, looking at his watch.
There were several anxious minutes of waiting. A thin wreath of smoke arose from the fuse. The other reporters were scribbling away.
Suddenly a dull boom sounded. A cloud of rocks and dirt arose from the bottom of the dam. The waters in the reservoir seemed tremendously agitated.
“There’s a hole in the dam!” cried several.
“No, there isn’t!” said Mr. Newton to Larry. “Here! Take this copy. It’s another failure! I’ve wired ’em to hold back for an extra. The dam is liable to go any second now. The explosion only weakened it along the whole length. Hurry back, Larry.”
He gave the boy a bundle of copy and Larry, jumping on his wheel, pedaled off as fast as he could. Several of the other reporters, who had not thought to provide messengers, started for the telegraph office on the run.
“You’re a foxy one, Newton,” they said. “But you wait! We’ll beat you yet.”
“You’re welcome to try,” was Mr. Newton’s answer.
Larry was making good time, in spite of the rain-soaked roads. He reached the telegraph office some minutes in advance of the other reporters, and, as the rule is in regard to press dispatches, the first to come is the first to be served, Mr. Newton’s stuff went over the wire ahead of the other dispatches.