"Mr. Penton, would you like to question the man?" asked Steve, nodding toward the Italian. "Yes. Come here, Dominick." The Italian obeyed with sullenness. "How did this thing happen, Dominick?" "Me not know." "You did not have your candle in your hand at any time, did you?" "Me have candle in hat." "Was it there when you picked up the bag?" "Yes." "You are sure of that?" "Me sure." "May I ask a question?" inquired Steve. "Certainly." "Did you pass or meet anyone just before you reached the chutes here?" "Me not meet any one." "I don't understand this at all," said Mr. Penton. "Dominick is trustworthy, so far as I am aware. At least no charges ever have been made against him." "He seemed to me to be pretty handy with his knife," suggested the president. "I shouldn't want to trust a man very far who acted that way, would you, Rush?" "Well, no, sir; but I shouldn't accuse him of setting fire to a bag of dynamite, then calmly shouldering the bag and marching off. At least, not unless he was determined to commit suicide." There was a hearty laugh, this time at the expense of the president. "There's good logic in that, at any rate," agreed Mr. Carrhart. Steve was studying the face of the Italian keenly. This Mr. Carrhart observed and nodded significantly to Superintendent Penton. But Steve could not make up his mind that Dominick was in any way to blame for what had barely missed being a great disaster. Both lads were puzzled. They could not understand it at all. "Perhaps a spark dropped from the trolley wire, thus firing the bag," suggested the superintendent, after briefly turning the question over in his mind. "That is a plausible explanation," said Mr. Carrhart, "and for want of a better one we shall have to let it go at that. Yes, I think that must be the explanation." The party decided that they had seen enough of the Cousin Jack for one day. Some of the officials were more anxious to get out of the place than they cared to admit. They were not used to having their luncheons interrupted by fifty-pound sacks of dynamite catching fire. Each, before leaving, stepped up and shook hands with the Iron Boys. "I want to see you before I leave the range," said Mr. Carrhart as he bade Steve good-bye. "Yes, sir," answered the boy, touching his hat, as he stepped to one side to permit the visitors to pass around the chute. "We must do something for those boys," said Mr. Cary to the president. "Yes," agreed Mr. Carrhart. "They are doing something for themselves, gentlemen," returned the superintendent. "They are not lads to need much help. They are the kind who carve out their own futures." * * * * * "Well, they've gone," announced Bob, stamping the dirt from his shoes. "What do you think of it?" "Of the fire--the burning bag, you mean?" "Yes." "I think it was a mighty queer occurrence." "So do I," agreed Jarvis, "and it's my opinion that it will bear looking into." "Where's Dominick?"