With quick precision the men leaped to obey him, and then followed him back again to the scene of conflagration. The flames were gaining swift headway. Lives had been lost where people in frantic endeavor to save their few possessions had braved the fiery terror. The down town section of the small city was in ruins. The flames had reached the outskirts and were nearing the guncotton factory. Grant stationed his men in this part. "String those wires here," he shouted, dashing among them as they struggled to obey his orders. "Hurry! That's it," he called, lending a hand to a man whose fingers worked clumsily, "Now attach them to the detonators. Work fast boys. The fire is catching up to us! How's the dynamite?" Above the roar of the steadily approaching flames the answer came back. "All wired up. Ready to blow up as soon as the plungers are attached." "Any caps to them?" "Fulminate of mercury on every one." "All right. Rush it. Let me know the minute you're ready!" A moment of waiting followed, then a man shouted: "All ready, sir!" Grant looked back at the swiftly rushing flames, then turned to the men. "Now boys. Each man to a detonator," he shouted. "When I say the word explode the dynamite!" There was a rush of dark figures in the glow of light. An order cut the air--then from the distance came a tremendous roar that dwarfed the noises of the night as the outskirts of Hopewell rose into the air. Great masses of wreckage fell about the men. Clouds of smoke and dust blackened the night air and stifled the onlookers, then the flames showed through once more--but this time they faced a gaping ditch of earth so wide that they could not cross. The guncotton factory was saved! Harrison Grant turned with a smile to the Captain of the guard, while wild cheers burst from the frantic citizens. Dixie Mason had made good speed toward Hopewell for the greater part of the distance. The car had run steadily until just as she came in sight of the columns of smoke clouds of burning Hopewell and realized that Instruction Number Four had undoubtedly been carried to a successful conclusion, her heart sank at the sound of a whistling rush of air from the rear wheel. She stopped the machine and jumped down to inspect the hopelessly flattened wheel. With grim determination she dragged out heavy tools from beneath the seat of the machine and set to work to repair the damage as best she could, her mind running mechanically to the disaster that had befallen Hopewell. So this was Instruction Number Four! At the sound of crackling in the bushes Dixie turned apprehensively. The haggard figure of a man which dragged itself into a road was one to inspire horror. He stared wildly for a moment and then lurched forward toward her. Dixie instinctively reached for the heavy wrench for protection but he shook his head. "I won't hurt you," he called hoarsely. "I'm in trouble. I want you to take me to Richmond, little girl."