Part 13 (2/2)

”Why, like a blast of some kind. Maybe it was at the railroad.”

”They don't work on the railroad at night-especially in this cold weather, Roger. No, it was something else.”

Both boys halted on the piazza and listened. But not another sound out of the ordinary reached their ears.

”Might as well go in-it's getting pretty cold,” said the senator's son.

Dave unlocked the door and they entered the mansion. A dim light was burning in the hallway. While they were taking off their caps and coats Dave's father appeared at the head of the stairs.

”Got back safely, did you?” he questioned.

”Yes, dad; and everything in the city was all right,” answered the son.

”I'll bring the package up to you.”

”Never mind-I'll come down and put it in the safe,” answered Mr. Porter.

”By the way,” he went on, ”what was that strange noise I just heard?”

”That is what we were wondering,” said Roger. ”It sounded like a blast of dynamite to me.”

”Maybe something blew up at the powder works at Fenwood,” suggested Dave. The works in question were fifteen miles away.

”If it did, we'll hear about it in the morning,” returned Mr. Porter, as he took the package Dave gave him and disappeared into the library, turning on the electric light as he did so.

The boys went upstairs and started to undress. Phil had been asleep, but roused up at their entrance. The boys occupied a large chamber, with two double beds in it, for they loved to be together, as at school.

”Listen to that!” cried Dave, as he was unlacing a shoe.

”It's the telephone downstairs!” cried Phil. ”My, but it's ringing to beat the band!” he added, as the bell continued to sound its call.

The boys heard Mr. Porter leave the library and go to the telephone, which was on a table in an alcove. He took down the receiver.

”Yes! yes!” the boys heard him say. Then followed a pause. ”You don't mean it! When, just now? Was that the noise we heard? Where did they go to? Wait, I'll call Mr. Wadsworth. What's that? Hurry!” Then followed another pause. ”Cut off!” they heard Mr. Porter mutter.

”Something is wrong!” murmured Dave.

Mr. Porter came bounding up the stairs two steps at a time. Dave and the other boys met him in the hallway.

”What is it, Dad?” asked the son.

”Robbers-at the jewelry works!” panted David Porter. ”I must notify Mr.

Wadsworth!” And he ran to a near-by door and pounded on it.

”What is it?” came sleepily from the rich manufacturer. He had heard nothing of the telephone call, being down deep in the covers because of the cold.

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