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“I’ll stay,” Jack quickly volunteered.

“I’m sticking too,” insisted Willie. “No, don’t argue. There’s no time to waste.”

“Right,” Jack grimly agreed. He turned to Ken.

“Take War and Bob and hot-foot it to the nearest telephone. Willie and I will stand guard, but we have no craving to meet the Angels. So tell those cops to step on it!”

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Left to themselves, Willie and Jack took up the vigil near the kettle of fluid believed to be nitro-glycerin.

“If this stuff is still active, it’s a miracle it hasn’t been set off,” Jack remarked, pacing nervously along the fence. “Why, there’s enough explosive here to blow that automobile plant to smithers.”

“Us too, Jack.”

“Sure. Nitro’s mighty tricky stuff. I hope Ken, War and Bob get those cops here in a hurry.”

Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed when Willie thought he heard a car on the nearby cemetery road. As they listened intently, it halted some distance away and the motor was switched off.

“That can’t be a police car,” Jack decided, becoming worried. “Ken would have brought the cops closer. Anyway, the fellows haven’t had time enough to get help here.”