We'll hold 'em." While he spoke, however, something hurtled over their heads and thumped the platform.

The queer log, or cylinder, lay there with a red coal sputtering at one end, a burning fuse.

Heywood snatched at it and missed.

Some one else caught up the long bulk, and springing to his feet, swung it aloft.

Firelight showed the bristling moustache of Kempner, his long, thin arms poising a great bamboo case bound with rings of leather or metal.