"Let up, I say!" he bellowed. "I don't like this! This fire——"
"The powder! The powder!" shrieked Dave. "It's rolling this way!"
"There goes a keg of it into the fire!" called another.
"Run for your lives, boys! The powder is going to blow up!"
"Save me! save me!" shrieked Nat Poole, shaking like a reed in the wind. "Oh, save me! I—I don't want to be blown up! Save me! I'll give you a—a thousand dollars! Oh, I don't want to die just yet!" And he began to tear at his bonds, in the midst of which the members of the club set up a loud shout of laughter. Then Nat Poole was released and the bandage taken from his eyes.
"Whe—where is the—the powder?" he gasped, staring around wildly.
"In your eye," was the answer, from Shadow. "I guess somebody's sold," he added, and then another shout of laughter went up.
"Why didn't you keep quiet?" said Haven, in disgust. "Nobody was going to hurt you."
"But—but—isn't there any powder?"
"Not a grain."
"Boys, I am afraid he hasn't nerve enough to become a member of the Gee Eyes," pronounced the Right Honorable Muck-a-Muck, seriously.
