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Jack continued to talk, though he scarcely heard his own words. From the roadway he had caught the hum of a motor. A police car perhaps? If so, the officers had avoided using a siren, which would have been a dead give-away.

“What was that?” the stranger asked suspiciously.

“Car going through the cemetery,” Jack answered with a shrug. “You sure are nervous.”

“You would be too, if you’d nursemaided ten pints of nitro for six months! I can’t sleep nights for worrying about it.”

“So that’s why you’ve kept coming back here so often?” Willie inquired. He could hear a slight rustle of leaves and thought that someone must be moving afoot through the trees.

“Sure,” the man admitted. “I had to make certain the stuff was okay. It would have been too, if you kids had kept away. I could wring your necks!”

“What are you going to do with us?” Jack asked, trying desperately to hold the full attention of the stranger.

By this time, he and Willie had glimpsed Ken, War and Bob walking near the fence. The man with the revolver could not see them, for he sat with his back to the approaching Scouts.