"Come, cheer up, my man," Buck admonished the quaking German. "Why you've stood it all through like a major, and——"
"Idt ain't dot. Idt ain't dose mis-er-able creasers dot I'm afraid of," rejoined the German in a quavering voice.
"What then?"
"Dot room behindt us contains, besides der specie, almost a ton of dynamite!"
"Great jumping wildcats!"
The exclamation dropped from Buck's lips. The others were too thunderstruck to utter a word.
"There's only one thing to do," spoke up Pete, his words fairly tumbling out of his mouth in his haste. "We must open the door and, at a signal, make a rush for it. We may never get through, but it's better than being blown up as we shall be if we remain here. The insurrectos must have left their horses somewhere near at hand. Maybe we can find them and escape."
"It's one chance in a thousand!" exclaimed Jack. "But perhaps this will be the thousandth time."
"Let us pray so!" exclaimed the professor fervently.
Buck had sprung to the door. His hand was on the bar. He knew, as did they all, that there was not an instant to lose. Their lives hung by a hair. At any moment the flames might reach the dynamite and then—annihilation, swift and terrible.