"What on earth do you mean by knocking a fellow down like that?" demanded
the machinist, angrily, leaping to his feet and wheeling about, leaving
the lighted pipe on the snowcrust.
"Look at the sign on this door," ordered Hal Hastings, pointing to the
big white letters.
"Danger, eh?" asked Williamson, speaking more quietly. "Well, that door
was open and swung back when I came along, so I couldn't see any
warning. But what is there in the shed that's so mighty dangerous?"
"What do you suppose is in the half-open keg that you were sitting on?"
demanded Captain Jack, rather hoarsely.
"What!" queried the machinist, curiously.
"The head of that keg is half off," Jack continued. "Now, if any sparks
from your pipe had dropped down and set the bagging afire--well, that
keg is almost full of cubes of gun-cotton!"
"Whew!" gasped Williamson, beginning to look pallid himself.
"Nor is that all," Hal took up. "Of course, if you had touched off that
gun-cotton in the keg, it would have sent us all through the roof. But
the smaller explosion would have touched off the two tons and a half of
gun-cotton in those Whitehead torpedoes.
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