Running from the wrecked powder room, the lad sprang down the drift, running straight toward the fire again. As yet he had not replaced the shirts about his head, for he was not yet ready to plunge into the fiery tunnel. The main purpose of his going to the powder room had not yet been carried out.
Reaching a point some twenty feet from the edge of the fire, the lad thrust one of the sticks into a crevice in the rocks. One after another he distributed the sticks in various places, some of them being wedged behind the lagging that supported the drift.
After a few seconds he had distributed them all, forming a line that the fire would be sure to touch before it could get by to reach the magazine.
Steve could hear Jarvis calling to him now. Perhaps Bob had been doing so right along, but if so, Rush had been so occupied with his task that he had not heard.
"Wh-o-o-p-e-e!" answered the plucky lad. "I'm coming. Look out for me."
Taking a final survey of his work, Steve turned toward the fire again.
"Getting out of here is going to be more difficult than getting in," he decided. "I shall be well singed by the time I get through that wall of fire."
Wrapping the shirts about his head, Steve dived into the fiery tunnel, holding his breath as he ran.
The heat was terrific. He could feel it burning through his trousers, and he could smell the burning cloth about his head. He had thrust his hands into his trousers' pockets, which afforded some protection.
Suddenly he stumbled over a timber that had fallen from its supports and measured his length on the ground. As he fell he uttered a shout.