Peter Pettigrew's Prisoner By NELSON S. BOND Pettigrew captured a strange prisoner; one whose methods of sabotage were unique. He had a weird dust in a bag.... [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories July 1942. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] [Illustration: The man threw a handful of dust into Pettigrew's face.] "So much," concluded Sergeant McCurdle, "for delayed action bombs. Now, as to incendiaries, Mr. Pettigrew--" ("_Halt, you cowardly cur!_" rasped Peter Pettigrew to the sinister figure creeping from a dark covert of his imagination. "_Advance and give the countersign. What? You don't know it? I thought not! Then take_ that, _you dirty Nazi spy, you! And that, and_ that, _and_ THAT!") "_Mister_ Pettigrew!" The daydream of Peter Pettigrew, student Air Warden, popped like a penny balloon. He started from his bench, pale eyes blinking bewilderedly. The enemy agent had disappeared. This was no blacked-out and vital defense zone, no strategically important military objective, but the warm, bright, all-too-familiar lecture room of the city Armory. All about him, giggling at his confusion, sat his fellow students, more than four score strong. Glaring at him wrathfully was the regular Army non-com assigned to training this volunteer brigade. "Well, Mr. Pettigrew," repeated Sergeant McCurdle in acid tones, "if you've _quite_ finished your little nap--?" "Y-yes, sir!" gulped Peter Pettigrew apologetically. "I--I'm sorry, sir. I must have dozed off." "In the Army," growled McCurdle ominously, "soldiers who doze off wake up in the clink! I'd like to see you--But never mind that now. Before you were so rudely awakened, Mr. Pettigrew, we were discussing bomb defense. Now, suppose _you_ tell us the proper way of handling an incendiary bomb. Let's assume you are guarding a wooden warehouse filled with highly inflammable military stores. "An incendiary shell scores a direct hit; concussion knocks you out momentarily. When you come to, you learn that the bomb has exploded and is scattering gouts of flame around the building. What do you do?" "I--er--I run to the water-hose," said Peter, "and turn the nozzle to fine spray--" "The water system is broken," said Sergeant McCurdle helpfully. "_Saboteurs_ have slashed the hose to ribbons." "Then I--I get buckets and sand, and--" "Fifth columnists," challenged McCurdle, "have mixed gunpowder into the sand." "Oh!" said Peter Pettigrew bleakly. "They have? In that case, I--I call the fire department, send out a general alarm, and attempt to fight a delaying action until help gets there. With chemicals, perhaps, or--"