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The thought then flashed into his mind of the dreadful contents of his old game-sack. "Th' bomb," he said. "Th' dynamighty bomb that I was savin' for th' revenuers! Let that finish out th' man as set 'em onto me!"

"Whoom!" The sound of the bursting bomb was nearer. "'Tis safer in the air," said Tam as he swung into his fuselage. "Contact!" A few seconds later, with a roar, the machine disappeared into the black wall of darkness. It came back in less than a minute well overhead and Blackie, straining his eyes upward, followed its progress against the stars until it melted into the sky. "Whoom!"

In a virulent article in the "Voix du Peuple," he had inquired if it were the intention of the authorities to beguile the public much longer with the story of that bomb and that Anarchist whom the police did not arrest.

The radar-blip which told of that ship's existence changed to the vaguely vaporous glow of incandescent gas. The other blip went out. No flare of a bomb. Nothing. It went out. So the last Mekinese ship was gone in overdrive. It was safe! It could not possibly be overtaken or attacked. It had seen the Horus's missiles following an unpredictable course, which was duly recorded.

There was nothing to do now but ride out the rest of the trip as comfortably as possible, until it was time to throw the asteroid into a series of ever-tightening elliptical orbits around Earth, known as braking ellipses. The method would use Earth's gravity to slow them down to the proper speed. A single atomic bomb and a half dozen tubes of rocket fuel remained.

The fourth was a percussion bomb, which had long cloth streamers fastened to the handle to insure greater accuracy in throwing. The men became remarkably accurate at a distance of thirty to forty yards. Old cricketers were especially good, for the bomb must be thrown overhand, with a full-arm movement. Instruction in bayonet-fighting was made as realistic as possible.

I remembered that in America, many centuries later, when an oil well ceased to flow, they used to blast it out with a dynamite torpedo. If I should find this well dry and no explanation of it, I could astonish these people most nobly by having a person of no especial value drop a dynamite bomb into it. It was my idea to appoint Merlin. However, it was plain that there was no occasion for the bomb.

The little man who had stepped on the fuse, and had then torn it from the bomb, looked at the object in his hand as though it were the most natural thing in the world to pick explosives up off the deck of passenger steamers, as he remarked: "Well, perhaps I did. Yes, I think it would have gone off in another second or two. Rather curious; isn't it?" "Curious? Curious!" asked and exclaimed Mr.

Look at that meek little body in the front row and the fat dowager behind her. And do see that anarchist-looking man at the side who is looking at Mr. Bond as though he would eat him up. Do you know who he is? I hope he hasn't a bomb in his pocket." "I don't know him, but I'll ask Hubert," said Winifred, and she passed the question along.

We had to greet each other, after having been parted for many months; and still, in the three minutes, you believe that we had time to concoct a plot of some sort, and to find some safe corner all the while in semi-darkness for the hiding of a thing important to the police a bomb, perhaps? You must think us very clever." "I know that you are very clever, Mademoiselle."