"Pinch the fuse," cried Hugh excitedly. "Put it out."

Both boys reached for it, but Bob was first. He had completely recovered
his nerve now and was perhaps even more self-possessed than Hugh.

Bob grasped the lighted part of the fuse between the thumb and forefinger
of his right hand. He squeezed it tightly, but quickly withdrew his hand
with a cry of pain. The fuse still sputtered.

"Let me!" almost sobbed Hugh. "Let me try."

He repeated Bob's performance, except that he held on in spite if the
pain he suffered. With tight-shut lips and set jaw he pinched the fuse
with all his strength. Finally he could stand it no longer and let go.

"It's out," cried Bob. "No, it isn't either," he exclaimed a second
later as the fuse once more showed red and the tiny sparks again made
their appearance. "We'd better run for it, Hugh. What's the use in our
being blown up along with the bridge?"

"Get out of the way!" ordered Hugh, and Bob obeyed at once. There was
something in the tone of his friend's voice that made him hasten to do
as he said.

Hugh knelt on the ties and leaned down over the bomb.

"Here comes a train," cried Bob suddenly. "On this track too."

Hugh paid no attention to this warning. He picked the bomb up in his two
hands and staggering under its weight, carried the spitting and