The Boy Scouts at the Panama Canal

  CHAPTER XX. A DYNAMITE VOLCANO.

  After a while, despite the thrilling novelty of the scene and thesignificant interest it held for the four American lads, the dust, theheat, the noise and the confusion and bustle became wearisome, and theybegan looking about, boy like, for something new.

  A white man in a duck uniform and pith helmet hastened by in company witha colored man who looked different from any negro the boys had yet seen.The man had straight black hair, long and glossy. He wore a small sort ofskull cap and white clothes with odd velvet shoes not unlike thoseaffected by Chinese.

  "Hullo, Raynor!" shouted Mr. Mainwaring to the white man, as the pairhustled by along the rampart-like heights of the big dam, "where are youbound for?"

  The dark man and his companion came to a halt, the former standing in arespectful attitude and saluting Mr. Mainwaring.

  "We're going to shoot a test hole," was the reply.

  "Do you mind taking these lads along? As you see, they are Boy Scouts,and anxious to see all that they can."

  "I'll be delighted to. I've a kid brother at home whose letters are fullof the doings of his patrol. Come along, young men. I'll show yousomething that will make your eyes open."

  "I'll meet you here in time for dinner," said Mr. Mainwaring.

  "We'll be here," rejoined Tubby, whose eyes had brightened at the mentionof a meal. Although he had devoured the milk and creamy meat of two hugecocoanuts, the stout youth was still ready for another chance at edibles.

  Mr. Raynor hastened on, beckoning to the boys to follow him.

  "What is a test hole?" asked Rob, as the boys trudged along the top ofthe dam beside him.

  "It is a hole blown in the ground so that we can tell what sort offoundation we are working on," was the reply.

  "Blown in the ground?" asked Tubby with round inquiring eyes.

  "Yes. Dynamited, perhaps I should have said. Ram Chunda there," hemotioned back at the dark man who was trotting along behind, "is the bossdynamiter. He's going to shoot the hole."

  "Oh, he's a Hindoo?" exclaimed Rob as he heard the name of the darksatellite. "We thought he was a negro."

  "Oh, no. We couldn't trust negroes with dynamite. Almost all the dynamitemen on the canal are Hindoos. They are not fit for the heavy work; but wefind them reliable and trust-worthy around explosives."

  "What's that?" asked Merritt presently, indicating a small hut painted abright red.

  "That's a dynamite hut. See, there are several workmen waiting to haveexplosives served out to them."

  "Can anybody get the stuff who wants it?" asked Merritt.

  "No, indeed. That would never do. They have to bring an order signed bythe boss on their particular section."

  Ram Chunda, however, appeared to have his supply of explosives elsewherefor they did not stop at the dynamite hut but passed on.

  "How much dynamite is stored there?" asked Rob, as they hurried along.

  "Oh, enough to blow the whole dam up, I guess," was the careless reply,to which the boys did not attach much significance at the time, althoughthey were to recollect those words with peculiar vividness later.

  Before long they reached a place where ladders were stretched from theground to the top of the dam.

  "We'll go down these," announced Mr. Raynor, halting. "Ram, you go first.You boys can follow. All got steady heads, I hope?"

  "I think so," murmured Fred, with a vivid recollection in his mind of thescene on the ruined tower of St. Augustin, "two of us have, anyhow."

  The engineer did not, of course, understand the allusion nor, to the joyof Rob and Merritt, did he ask any explanation. Neither boy liked torecall those awful moments when they hung suspended in mid-air betweenlife and death.

  The ladders were long and steep, but the descent was made withoutincident. At the base of the dam, however, was a steep sort of embankmentof loose sand and gravel. Tubby, who was behind Ram Chunda, looked downand saw this, which appeared to offer a secure "jumping off" place.

  With a whoop he jumped from the last ladder while still several feetabove the top of the bank. His feet struck it with a scrunch. But theloose, shaly stuff was treacherous. With an alarmed yell the fat boy, thecocoanuts round his belt rattling like castanets, rolled down the bank,revolving like a barrel.

  The others looked on in some alarm. Suddenly Tubby struck the bottom ofthe bank and simultaneously there came a series of sounds like a volleyof musketry.

  Pop! pop! pop! pop!

  "Gracious, it's Tubby," cried Rob, tracing the source of the sounds.

  "Is he blowing up?" demanded Fred Mainwaring in genuine alarm.

  "Sounds like it!" exclaimed Merritt apprehensively.

  The engineer and the Hindoo looked on in amazement. The fat boy continuedto pop loudly. Suddenly, still popping spasmodically, he struggled to hisfeet. What a sight he presented!

  He was covered from head to foot with a milky fluid which was flowingdown him and on which the gravel had stuck and plastered him with yellowmud.

  "Tubby, are you hurt?" yelled Merritt.

  "Bob," shrilled Rob, for once, in his alarm, giving Tubby his real firstname, "what's the trouble? Are you injured?"

  "No, but those cocoanuts have blown up!" shouted Tubby angrily. "Oneafter another they busted! I thought I was in a battle for a minute."

  "Well, you look as if you'd been through a hard siege," declared Rob,who, now that his apprehension was over, joined the others in a heartylaugh and a scramble down the gravel bank.

  "What made 'em bust?" demanded Tubby, ruefully, surveying his drencheduniform and brushing himself off as best he could.

  As soon as he could speak for laughing the engineer explained. Cocoanutsin their natural state are shielded by great masses of leaves which keeptheir milky contents cool. Tubby, in his greed, had girded himself aboutwith the succulent nuts and then spent a long morning in the hot sun.This, combined with his activities, had caused the milk to heat up andferment.

  If the fat boy had not taken his tumble down the bank it is not likelythat the nuts would have exploded. But the fall was what proved too muchfor the already fermented milk. Like so much gunpowder it had expandedand blown the "eyes," or thin parts, out of each cocoanut, spraying theunfortunate Tubby with milk, and making the sharp series of reports thathad so alarmed them.

  Even Ram Chunda's immobile face bore the trace of a smile at Tubby'sdisaster. In fact, the boy got no sympathy from anyone.

  "I'll pack no more cocoanuts with me," he was heard to mutter, "they areas dangerous as Anarchists' bombs and a whole lot messier. Gee, myuniform's a sight!"

  But as the unanimous verdict seemed to be "Serves you right," Tubby hadfew remarks on his disaster to offer for the public benefit.