HEROES ALL!
Within an hour after the capture of Blackie Williams, the Belton
newspapers carried front page accounts of the nitro-glycerin discovery.
Photographers, reporters and hundreds of curious persons swarmed to the
cemetery area.
Working under direction of police, the Scouts guarded entrance roads
until relieved of duty. Reporters interviewed them and photographers
insisted that they pose for action shots. To their intense
embarrassment, townsfolk chose to regard them as heroes.
“Shucks, we didn’t do much,” Ken protested. “If anyone deserves credit,
Jack does. He had that first hunch about Blackie Williams.”
A policeman informed the Scouts that an out-of-town explosives expert
would be called in to set off a controlled explosion.
“We’ve talked to Blackie, and there’s no question the stuff is active,”
he told Jack. “Too dangerous to move. It seems he stole it seven months
ago from an explosives plant. Once he got his hands on it, he realized
he had more than he could use in twenty years. So he had to get rid of
it.”
The Scouts were on hand the following day when a nitro-glycerin expert
arrived to inspect the kettle of fluid. He told police the explosive
could not be safely moved and that it must be detonated. Preparations
went forward for the big blast.
Under the direction of Bradley Graham, an expert, sod and screenings
were placed atop the cache to control the explosion. A two-pound
dynamite charge, activated by a battery-powered switch, then was set up.
When all was in readiness, great crowds jammed the streets, approaching
as close as police would allow. Only newspaper reporters and Scouts were
permitted within the roped off area. All were warned to hit the ground
face downward at the moment of the explosion.
The signal was given. Mr. Graham pulled a switch. But for a moment,
nothing happened.
“It’s a dud—” War muttered.
His words were drowned by a mighty explosion which rocked the earth.
Dirt and crushed stone flew high into the air.
“A dud, eh?” said Jack laughing, wiping dust from his clothes as he got
quickly to his feet.
After an interval, the Scouts were permitted to inspect the great crater
which had been made. The hole was fully fifteen feet across and nearly
five feet deep.
“I guess a little knowledge comes in handy,” Bob remarked in awe. “It’s
sure lucky we recognized that stuff as nitro.”
The Scouts thought no more of the incident. Therefore, it came as a
distinct surprise, when on the following day, they received word that a
recognition dinner was to be given in their honor. Explorers Post 21
members were instructed to present themselves at the Belton Hotel at six
o’clock on Friday night.
“Do we have to go?” Willie asked Mr. Livingston in alarm.
“I would,” the Scout leader advised. “The mayor and the president of the
auto plant are giving the dinner. You boys performed a fine service, so
it’s only right that Belton should show appreciation.”
Their consciences at ease, the Scouts pressed their green Explorers’
uniforms and at the designated hour presented themselves at the hotel.
Two hundred businessmen and their wives had turned out to honor the
boys.
The dinner was excellent and high praise was bestowed upon the Scouts.
As a climax, the mayor arose to announce that citizens of Belton City
wished to show their appreciation in a more material way. In behalf of
the entire Post, he handed Jack a check for $900.
Jack glued his eyes on the bit of paper, too overcome to speak. He felt
Ken nudge him.
“Say something, you lug!” his chum urged.
“In behalf of my fellow Explorers—” Jack began, “I want to say that
we’re most grateful.” He laughed and dropped the formality. “Oh, heck!
We only did what every Scout is supposed to do—his duty. We didn’t want
pay.”
“Of course, you didn’t, Jack,” responded the mayor. “Nevertheless, we
feel that the Scouts performed a great service. Had it not been for your
alertness, the automobile plant might have been destroyed. So take the
check and spend it as you wish—a vacation trip or new furniture for your
club room.”
“Yes, sir,” Jack murmured, grinning. “We’ll manage to spend it all
right!”
After the gathering had broken up, the Explorers joined Mr. Livingston
to discuss their good fortune. Jack turned the check over to the Scout
leader, who said he would deposit it at the bank the first thing the
following morning.
“What a night it’s been!” Willie remarked blissfully. “With all this
dough, we really can have a bang-up trip to Minnesota—if we go.”
The Scouts gazed speculatively at Mr. Livingston. Since the arrival of
the letter and emerald from his friend in Colombia, he had not even
mentioned the subject again. Had he given up all thought of making the
trip, they wondered?
“Fellows,” Mr. Livingston said abruptly, “I hadn’t intended to spill
this just yet, but I may as well. I’ve accepted Appleby Corning’s offer.
I hope to leave for Colombia within three weeks.”
No one replied for a moment. The information was most disappointing.
Ken was the first to find tongue. “Why, that’s fine,” he said in a
hollow tone. “We’ll miss you, but it’s a splendid opportunity. Post 21
won’t be the same without you, but we’ll get along somehow.”
“Who said anything about getting along without me?” Mr. Livingston
demanded with a broad smile.
“You don’t mean you’re taking us with you!” cried War, his freckled face
crinkling into lines of delight.
“That’s the general idea. I cabled my friend, and received a reply this
morning. He said to bring you fellows along.”
“But the cost?” Jack interposed anxiously.
“That’s the rub,” admitted the Scout leader. “Appleby isn’t too well
off. He’s offered though, to pay all the plane fares, round trip. All
other expenses of the trip would have to be met by us.”
“Would nine hundred dollars do it?” War asked eagerly.
“It might.”
“We have another hundred or so we’ve saved for the Minnesota trip,”
added Willie. “I’m for shooting the works!”
“Until the mayor presented the check tonight, I couldn’t see how the
trip might be financed,” Mr. Livingston admitted. “But with plane fare
furnished, I think we could get along. Once we’re in Colombia, Mr.
Corning will put us up at the Last Chance mine. So we’ll have no living
expenses there. Naturally, we’ll need a little extra money for
emergencies.”
“When do we start?” War chortled. “Why wait three weeks?”
“There’s a little item of school for one thing,” Mr. Livingston reminded
him. “Also, your parents must consent. Talk the matter over with them
and report to me tomorrow.”
By the following day, all the Scouts with exception of Bob, had obtained
permission to make the journey. His parents felt that he was too young
to attempt such a long trip. Instead, they were taking him with them on
a motor tour to California.
“Honestly, I don’t mind too much,” Bob cheerfully informed his friends.
“I’m not a softie, but those tales you told about being held captive by
Indians in Peru left me rather cold. I’m partial to a nice bed and three
square meals a day.”
“This is a different sort of trip,” Jack said. “We don’t expect to
become mixed up in an intrigue over Inca gold.”
“It may be emeralds this time,” Bob predicted. “Something’s brewing or
Mr. Corning wouldn’t have sent for Hap.”
“You’re probably right,” Jack agreed with a grin. “Trouble certainly has
developed at the Last Chance mine. And it’s a cinch we’re going to be in
the thick of it!”