Dick half dried himself in a few frenzied dabs with the towel.

Then he pulled on his clothing faster than ever before.
He got outside on the pier just in time to see Dave and Tom leading a dozen men stealthily toward the door of the boathouse.

Out on the water Len Spencer's launch, with half a dozen men in it, stood as river sentinel.
While those approaching the boathouse door were still more than a score of feet away there came a startling interruption.
Bang! sounded inside.

The door of the building strained an instant, but did not give way.
"That's our old friend, Amos bang-bang, to a dot," muttered Tom dryly, as the advancing party of men and boys halted.
"I don't care about fooling with a dynamite factory," remarked one of the men.
Dick, at a dead run, joined the party.
"Come along!" he cried.

"Let's break down the door and find out whether the poor fellow is hurt." "Yes! And have that 'poor fellow' hand you a peck of nitro-glycerine for a surprise," retorted a man.
"Come on, fellows! We can get the door down without help," Dick called, appealing to his chums.
All five of them rallied to his support.