“Surely we can,” answered Joy, while the two Eastern girls looked at each other helplessly. And immediately she began the preparations.
“Can’t you two help?” demanded Phil. “Now’s the time for you to prove that you are useful as well as ornamental.”
If looks could have killed, the boy would have been struck down by the glances his sisters bestowed on him, but they set about assisting Joy with a will.
“Thank you, thank you very much,” said Mr. Jackson, with a smile. “I’ll send the men to you in about fifteen minutes.”
The pall of smoke still hung over the lowland, however, or those preparing the coffee and such other food as they had would have seen them already stumbling exhaustedly toward the dam.
Of a sudden there sounded a deafening roar, followed by piercing shrieks.
In horror, those about the wagon gazed below.
“That’s dynamite!” exclaimed Mr. Jackson. “It can’t be that you boys were thoughtless enough to leave any at your—”
“If they had, it would have exploded when the hut burned, not now, so long afterward,” interrupted Chester. While Phil said:
“No, sir. I put it all in a bag, in the wagon, on some bedding.”