"Gee! My eyebrows are all singed off!" cried Sam Snedecker, as
he tore loose his mask which had been rent in the explosion, and
felt of his face.
"And my hands are burned," added Pete Bailey. "I stood closer
to the fire than any of you."
"You did not! I got the worst of it!" cried Andy. "I was
knocked down by the explosion, and I'll bet I'm hurt somewhere. I
guess--Oh! Help! I'm falling in a mud hole!"
There was a splash, and the bully disappeared from the sight of
his companions who, now that the moon had risen, could better see
to flee from their prisoner.
"Help me out, somebody!" pleaded Andy. "I'm in a mud hole!"
They pulled him out, a sorry looking sight, and the red-haired
lad, whose locks were now black with muck, began to lament his
lot.
"Dry up!" commanded Sid Holton. "It's all your fault, for
proposing such a fool trick as capturing Tom Swift. We might have
known he would get the best of us."
"What was that stuff he used, anyhow?" asked Cecil Hedden, the
lad responsible for the organization of the Deep Forest Throng.
"He must be a wonder. Does he do sleight-of-hand tricks?"
"He does all sorts of tricks," replied Pete Bailey, feeling of
a big lump on his head, caused by falling on a stone in the mad
rush.
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