"Beat it out with your hands!" cried Steve. "It's getting the best of us. If it reaches the fuses, we're done for!"
"Skip, Steve; let me do it."
Rush did not answer. He was beating a tattoo on the bag, now and then grabbing up a handful of mud and water to soothe the hands which were already quite badly burned.
"It's out," announced Bob at last.
The Iron Boys' prompt action had prevented the fuses from igniting. All this had occupied but a few seconds. Instinctively the visitors realized that something was wrong, but they did not understand what that something was.
Steve rolled the bag over two or three times, soaking it as well as he could with the little water at hand. He then opened the mouth of the sack, emptying the contents into the gutter and soaking that with water. This done, he threw the sack away and straightened up, his face flushed from his exertions.
The Italian was just getting to his feet unsteadily, but there was an angry light in his eyes.
Steve pointed to the sack.
"How did that happen?" demanded the lad.