“Then where could it have come from?” demanded the superintendent.
“It must have been those two sticks I threw away the day Phil and I were blowing out brush,” announced Ted.
About to upbraid the young homesteaders for their carelessness in leaving the explosive unreclaimed, Mr. Jackson held his words, and with a command to Chester, ran down the hill, followed by the boys.
At this fresh catastrophe Joy’s heart sank, for she expected the girls and their mother would collapse. But she was agreeably surprised. Though their faces were very white and their hands trembled, the three Eastern women turned with one accord to the pile of bedding and began to tear the sheets into strips for bandages.
“Thank goodness, you won’t need those,” declared Andy, suddenly appearing.
“But the cries?” exclaimed Sallie.
“Just surprise and warnings. The men’s nerves have been badly strained and the explosion startled them.”
“We certainly have a great deal for which to be thankful,” said Mrs. Porter. “I should never get over it if any of these brave men had been injured through my boys’ carelessness.” As he heard the words, the agent looked at the little woman in amazement.
“I don’t understand,” he murmured. In reply, Mrs. Porter repeated Ted’s statement.
“Well, it is a relief to know there were only two sticks of it lying about,” returned Andy. “I was afraid some one might have planted the explosive throughout the section.”