"Keep working, men!" he shouted, starting away at top speed.
"Come back!" yelled Jarvis. "You'll be blown to death."
"We'll all be blown to death if someone doesn't stop the fire before it gets to the powder room."
"Then I'm going with you," answered Bob Jarvis, following after his companion at top speed. "It isn't any worse for me than it is for you."
"Stay back there and handle the men!" flung back Steve over his shoulder.
Bob paid no attention to the command. He was running at full speed in order to keep up with his companion, for Steve, with a handkerchief stuffed in his mouth, was running on the toes of his heavy shoes, darting in and out of drifts, making sharp detours to get around a burning spot that was too hot to be passed with safety.
"Keep shouting, or I'll lose you," cried Bob.
"I can't! I'll choke!" was the faint answer.
On raced the two boys, Bob gaining on Steve very slowly, struggle as he might to decrease the other's lead.
"We're too late!" groaned Jarvis, as the lads came to a sudden halt. Before them the flames were crackling viciously in the dry woodwork of the drift leading into the earth for some sixty yards, where the powder room was located. "Get out of here, or we'll be blown to smithereens!"