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“Still active?” Jack questioned.

“It probably is. This stuff is too tricky to be moved by anyone except a nitro expert. You Scouts were lucky you weren’t blown to bits.”

“I guess so,” Jack admitted ruefully. “We had no idea what was in the kettle when we started digging. Luckily, our spade never jarred the container.”

“It’s going to be a job getting rid of that nitro,” the policeman said. “The important thing now is to bottle up this area, so no one gets hurt. You boys willing to help?”

“Sure,” Warwick agreed eagerly.

“Then post yourselves along the cemetery road,” the policeman instructed. “Don’t let anyone in. If that nitro should let loose, this whole place would go up in one loud bang!”

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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.