It came at last.
"Who-o-o-o-o-p!"
"He's made it!" breathed Bob, with a deep sigh of relief. "I wonder what he is going to try to do? I ought to be in there with him, instead of standing out here doing nothing."
In the meantime Steve, having penetrated beyond the fire zone, made his way quickly to the wooden partition behind which lay the boxes of high explosives. He gave the door a sharp push, but it did not yield.
It is locked!" groaned the boy. "I've got to get in there, I've got to do it or we are all lost!"
The fire was by this time less than fifty feet behind him, creeping along toward the powder room at a rapid rate.
Steve backed off and threw himself against the door with all his strength. But the door did not move.
Once more did the lad try to break the door in, the rough wood tearing the skin from his shoulders, sending the blood trickling down his sides in tiny rivulets.
Bang!
He hurled himself against the door for the sixth time. The door gave way with surprising suddenness. Steve Rush plunged headlong into the magazine and went down, entangled in the wreck of the splintered door.