is breath in expostulation, but grappled with
him, and he had rent part of Weston's jacket off his back in the
effort to detain him when Devine came running up. Then Weston,
wriggling around, struck the storekeeper in the face, and plunged back
into the smoke as the latter dropped his hand.

They lost sight of him for almost a minute, and then he reeled out of
the shack as the smoke drove away. A stream of sparks whirled past it,
and close above him the roof was blazing, but he held another
flour-bag in his hands, and his comrades, who had reasonably steady
nerves, were almost appalled when he poised himself to throw it. There
was only a thin strip of cotton fabric between the flying sparks and
the plastic yellow rolls of powder. Still, the bag was thrown, and
Saunders set off with it, while Weston stood gasping a moment and
looked at Devine.

"There's the bag of detonators yet," he said, and, swinging around,
disappeared again.

Devine remembered that there was no lid to the iron box in which they
kept the detonators, and that they were intended to be ignited by the
sparking of a fuse. He stood some little distance from the shack, and
it did not occur to him that, as one person could carry the box
readily, he was serving no purpose in waiting. Indeed, he was only
conscious of a suspense that made it impossible for him to go away. He
did not know how long he waited, but in the meanwhile the smoke
whirled lower, and he could see nothing for a moment or two. Then it
lifted, and the shack stood out in the midst of a lurid blaze. There
was a horrible crackling, and Weston suddenly sprang into sight, black
against the brightness, with the iron box, which had deer-hide straps
attached to it, slung upon his back. The sparks rained about him, but
he plunged through the midst of them, while the box banged against
him. Then Devine turned and ran.

They reached the mouth of the adit safely, and when they crawled into
it, Weston sat down and gasped heavily for a while before he turned to
the others and pointed to the two bags of giant-powder lying on the
floor. His duck jacket was burned in patches, and there were several
red spots, apparently where sparks had fallen, on his blackened face
and hands.

"Haven't you sense enough to take that open lamp farther away from
those bags?" he asked.

There was a roar of hoarse laughter as his companions recognized the
incongruity of the question; and Weston blinked at them, as though