"Someone has released the brakes from a dump train," he announced, "It crashed back into the shaft of the mine. Miners have been injured. The trouble's on. Keep that man in front in view--don't lose him!" They hurried on, still watching the form of the hurrying spy before them. They saw him rush to a corner where he might watch the mine dump, then stand there, his eyes roving in every direction. A fight had started at the dump, between legitimate laborers and the I.W.W. agitators who seemed to have sprung from nowhere. Men fought, while women screamed. Agitators were running here, there, everywhere, blaming the dumping of the cars upon the mine owners and demanding that everyone join the I.W.W. that these men might be paid back for the damage they had caused. Again a troop of constabulary passed--then another and finally, Dixie and Grant saw the spy on the corner, suddenly turn and run. "After him--quick!" ordered the president of the Criminology Club--"he's the one who will point out the real danger!" Down the street the spy ran, Dixie and Grant following him closely. Into tortuous alleys, across lots--finally to approach a great, warehouse-like building, where one or two other men could be seen entering. The two detectives skirted the building, approached it cautiously and examined it for some loophole, through which they might enter. But there seemed to be none. Here and there were great doors, from which shipping had emanated in other days--but each was carefully locked and bolted now. Grant pressed his ear against one of these--and heard the jabbering and shouting of great numbers of men. He turned, and seeking a foothold, raised himself that he might peer through a corner of a window imperfectly covered from within. "Dixie," he whispered. "Yes," the girl was close beside him. "Do you see anything in there?" "Yes. Practically every I.W.W. in town is here. Someone is on the platform, talking to them. I----" "Can you make out who's there?" "Dembriki's one. Faggi's another. And Heinric von Lertz!" "Von Lertz! Then it means----" "They're bringing out parcels of something. Laying them on the platform so that they can easily be reached. Hurry----" Grant turned, his face white. "Get the constabulary--quick! It's dynamite!" In a flash Dixie Mason was pressing every muscle to the utmost as she ran through the lots and back toward the mines that she might summon the members of the mounted police. Grant remained a minute longer at the window, then suddenly dropped to the ground and again began to skirt the building.