he said lightly. "Dynamite don't go off as easy as people think. You could drop that stuff from the cliff-head 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
