he room the floor of earth had been excavated, until a
space about six feet square and four deep had been formed, and into this
excavation was packed a number of square tin cans, which Ralph felt
certain contained that powerful agent, nitro-glycerine.

Bob was at work soldering together a long tin shell, about six inches in
diameter and fully ten feet long, and he called out, as his friends
entered:

"Come right in. Don't be afraid that you will be shot at, for we drop
all that kind of business here for fear we might all go up together.
This, Mr. Gurney, is the moonlighters' cabin, and I am free to confess
that it is not the most cheerful place in the world."

"I don't find as much fault with the cabin as I do with what you keep
stored in those innocent-looking tin cans," replied Ralph, as he seated
himself on a pile of blankets at a respectful distance from the
glycerine.

"Oh, that's harmless enough so long as you leave it alone!" replied Bob,
carelessly, and then as he resumed his work of soldering, he asked: "Did
you see anything of Jim as you came in?"

"No; where is he?"

"Out by the road somewhere. We heard that our particular friends in town
had got wind of the fact that we were going to put in a charge to-night,
so Jim is doing guard duty outside, leaving Dick Norton and I to do the
tinker's work. We expected to have gotten our shells all made in town;
but they are looking out so sharp for us just now that it was entirely
too much of a risk to bring them out here."

"How did they learn that you were going to work to-night?" asked George.

"That's more than I can say, unless old Hoxie was fool enough to let it
out that we were going to shoot his well for him," replied Bob, working
savagely with the soldering iron, much as if he would have been pleased
had he been using it on Mr. Hoxie's too ready tongue.

"Do you anticipate _much_ trouble?" asked Ralph, with just a shade of
anxiety, beginning to realize that it would not be the most pleasant
thing in the world to commence his vacation by being arrested as a
moonlighter.

"That's just what I can't say. We may have it, and we may not; but
there's one thing certain, and that is that I'll shoot that well if I
don't get back to the Kenniston farm for three months."

"I don't believe that they are even looking for us. They think we went
out of the business two weeks ago," said Dick Norton, as he, in a very
unworkmanlike manner, attempted to aid Bob. "You