t them out--hey?"

"They're locked up in the engine-house," rejoined Master Tevis.

"What's the matter with an anvil? It makes a lot of noise," suggested
Hosmer. "Where do you get the powder, Skinny?"

"Skinny," whose real name was Ambrose F. Skinner, Jun., assumed a very
mysterious air.

"Now, listen, and I'll tell you," he said. "You remember when they had
that smash up on the railroad last week--don't you?"

"You mean the train going South to the army?" asked Hosmer.

"Yep, that's it. Happened last Thursday," responded Ambrose, growing
excited. "Well! they ran two banged-up cars back on the siding above the
river-bridge, and left 'em. I guess they forgot, p'r'aps. But the
worst-busted car is loaded with powder. I saw the barrels: one of them
had a big hole in it. I say, come along, I'll show you. 'Tain't far."

"Come on; let's!" was the united answer. The two listeners jumped to the
ground, and Master Tevis picked up the rifle. Then the three struck off
across the hill, and walked along a path through the thicket of
scrub-oak.

In a few minutes the boys were standing beside two heavy freight-cars on
a crooked timber switch. The end of one had been broken in as if by a
collision, and the trucks of both were injured.

Skinny climbed into the wrecked car, and lifted the end of a tarpauling
that covered some barrels.

"There you are," he said, triumphantly. "All the powder you want--nuff
to blow up the town."

"I don't suppose they'll let 'em stay here very long," said Hosmer.

"But they can't send them South on the road now," remarked Tevis. "The
big bridge is down ten miles below--heard tell of it last night. They
will have to go back the other way; not a train's been through for forty
hours."

Tevis's grandfather was the station-agent at Middleton, and he spoke
with an air of certain knowledge.

"Come, hand up your bottle and we will fill her up," said Skinner,
extending his hand.

Will Tevis paused. "I say, fellows," he said, "I don't think it would be
right. Do you, Hosmer?"

"A bottleful would never be missed," interposed Skinny. "There's more'n
that spilled here on the floor. We _must_ celebrate the Fourth. Why not,
boys? Eh!"

It was evident that Master Skinner's intentions were liable to change,
however, and that some scruples were arising even in his mind, for he
said, testily,

"You're a 'fraid-cat, Will Tevis."

The latter put down the rifle. "If you say that again, Ambrose Skinner,