It was shortly after one o’clock, and the first edition had gone to press. There had not been much news, local or foreign, since morning, and the reporters and editors were taking it a little easy.
It was a warm afternoon in early September, and the haze in the air indicated the approach of a storm.
“It would be just like something to break loose now,” observed one of the reporters, who was lazily lounging on a table, puffing at a corncob pipe. “It was just like this one afternoon when that big railroad wreck occurred. We thought we were never going to get any news that day, when all at once we had more than we could handle. That’s always the way when——”
“Boom!” A dull but powerful explosion sounded through the open windows, startling the reporters, and causing the one who was speaking to break off suddenly in his talk.
“Something went up that time,” exclaimed Mr. Newton.
“Are they blasting anywhere around here?” asked the city editor.
“No,” several replied. “That’s an explosion of some sort. Can’t be down at one of the forts, as it sounded too near.”
“Look out that window!” exclaimed Larry, pointing at one that opened on the north side of the office. “See the smoke!”
A dark pall of vapor, like an immense cloud, overhung a portion of the city, seemingly about a mile away from the office.
“It’s one of the gas tanks!” cried Mr. Newton.