, with a tinge of sardonic scepticism.

"Wait and see," retorted Barnett blithely, for he was in his element now.
"I'll appoint you my assistant. Just toss me up that cartridge: the third
one on the left."

The surgeon recoiled.

"Supposing you don't catch it?"

"Well, supposing I don't."

"It's dynamite, isn't it?"

"Something of the same nature. Joveite, it's called."

Still the surgeon stared at him. Barnett laughed.

"Oh, you've got the high explosives superstition," he said lightly.
"Dynamite don't go off as easy as people think. You could drop that stuff
from the cliffhead without danger. Have I got to come down for it?"

With a wry face Trendon tossed up the package. It was deftly caught.

"Now wet that dirt well. Put it in the canvas bag yonder, and send one of
the men up with it. I'm going to make a mud pie."

Breaking the package open, he spread the yellow powder in a slightly
curving line along the rock. With the mud he capped this over, forming a
little arched roof.

"To keep it from blowing away," surmised Trendon.

"No; to make it blow down instead of blowing up."

"Oh, rot!" returned the downright surgeon. "That pound of dirt won't make
the shadow of a feather's difference."

"Won't it!" retorted the other. "Curious thing about high explosives. A
mud-cap will hold down the force as well as a ton of rock. Wait and see
what happens to the rock beneath."

He slid off his perch into the ankle-deep water and waded out to the boat.
Here he burrowed for a moment, presently emerging with a box. This he
carried gingerly to a convenient rock and opened. First he lifted out some
soft padding. A small tin box honey-combed inside came to light. With
infinite precaution Barnett picked out an object that looked like a 22-
calibre short cartridge, wadded some cotton batten in his hand, set the
thing in the wadding, laid it on the rock, carefully returned the small
box to the large box and the large box to the boat, took up the cartridge
again and waded back to the cliff. They watched him in silence.

"This is the little devil," he said, indicating his delicate burden.
"Fulminate of mercury. This is the stuff that'll remove your hand with
neatness and despatch. It's the quickest tempered little article in the
business. Just give it one hard look and it's off."

"Here," said Trendon, "I resign. From now on I'm a spectator."

Barnett swung the fulminate in his handkerchief and gave it to a sailor to
h