“I throwed a step-ladder at it, Marse Tom,” Mustard wailed. “It wus longer dan de ladder.” “Come back to the orchard and show me,” Gaitskill ordered. “Naw, suh!” Mustard whooped. “Go look fer yo’se’f, boss. Dis nigger is done seen aplenty!” “Whut wus he doin’ in dat orchard?” Hopey howled. “He wus aimin’ to climb dat step-ladder an’ bite my leg off when I seen him,” Mustard shuddered. “I gib him de ladder an’ tole him he could take my place!” “Don’t make so much noise, Mustard,” Gaitskill commanded, as he turned away and entered the house. Nobody credited Mustard’s story, except Org and Little Bit, and they slipped away as soon as they could to see if their alligator was still in captivity. They found that he had escaped, and a broad trail led across the dust of the pig-lot toward the orchard. The alligator had crawled through a hole. The boys promptly decided not to enter the orchard for any purpose whatsoever. Thinking further, they decided they had better absent themselves from home for the day, for that alligator might do all sorts of sensational stunts, and they had seen enough of his performances the day before. Besides, Colonel Gaitskill might want to know how the creature got on the premises, and Org had found that the best way to avoid answering questions was to be where questions could not be addressed to him. At that moment there came to the ears of the two boys a dull explosion. They turned their faces in the direction of the sound and left home. It is a pity that they did not first return to the storehouse and turn off the spigot of the molasses barrel. But they did not. That sirup ran two days and one night! One of the annoyances of agriculture in Louisiana is stumps. Whenever a farmer undertakes to blast the stumps out of the ground with dynamite or powder, he is sure to have a crowd of small boys to watch him. Org had been on the trail of the dynamiters for a number of days. Whenever they heard an explosion, they knew that some farmer was having a celebration of fireworks and profanity, and they hurried to the spot, guided by the explosive noises. By being around, they had surreptitiously acquired a number of dynamite caps, also several yards of fuse in various lengths. The sound they had heard a few minutes before was over in the direction of the Cooley bayou, and they went. What they saw when they got there, put the fear of dynamite in their souls forever.