"It had to be thrown by one of these men near the machine. That harvester hasn't run twenty feet from where the trick was done.… Let these men face me. I'll find the guilty one."
"Wait till we get Lenore out of the way," replied Anderson
"Boss, me an' Bill can answer fer thet outfit as it stands, an' no risks fer nobody," put in Jake, coolly.
Anderson's reply was cut short by a loud explosion. It frightened Lenore. She imagined one of the steam-engines had blown up.
"That thresher's on fire," shouted Dorn, pointing toward a big machine that was attached by an endless driving belt to an engine.
The workmen, uttering yells and exclamations, ran toward the scene of the new accident, leaving Anderson, his daughter, and the foreman behind. Smoke was pouring out of the big harvester. The harvest-hands ran wildly around, shouting and calling, evidently unable to do anything. The line of wagons full of wheat-sheaves broke up; men dragged at the plunging horses. Then flame followed the smoke out of the thresher.
"I've heard of threshers catchin' fire," said Anderson, as if dumfounded, "but I never seen one.… Now how on earth did that happen?"
"Another trick, Anderson," replied Dorn. "Some I.W.W. has stuffed a handful of matches into a wheat-sheaf. Or maybe a small bomb!"
"Ah-huh!… Come on, let's go over an' see my money burn up.… Kurt, I'm gettin' some new education these days."
Dorn appeared to be unable to restrain himself. He hurried on ahead of the others. And Anderson whispered to Lenore, "I'll bet somethin's comin' off!"