seventeen. One of his hands rested on the truck and his eyes were
carefully fixed on the load it bore. This was a black, iron-bound
case about four feet long, three feet deep and perhaps a yard in
height. On each side in red letters were the words:

"Explosive; no fire." Beneath this ominous legend were two large
iron handles.

When the men drawing the truck quickened their pace the boy spoke to
them sharply and they fell again into a steady walk. For the
curious onlookers through whom the strange little caravan passed the
lad by the side of the truck seemed to have no concern. A traveling
cap was pushed back from his young face and his keen and alert eyes
and the tone of his voice indicated a quality that goes with those
born to command.

"Hello, Ned," came a ringing greeting from Alan as he ran forward.
"They were afraid you wouldn't get here. But I knew you would.
It's only a minute or two. Hurry."

"Four," said the new arrival cheerfully and confidently.

He gave his left hand to Alan and a better welcome in a cheery word
of greeting, but his right hand did not leave the truck. Nor did
his eyes leave it except for a moment.

"And the Major?" asked the new arrival as the truck rumbled on.

"Waiting to bid us good-bye."