Uncle Jack, who had been reading up on
the year's long list of accidents. "The danger of being hit by falling
or flying objects in mills and factories is the biggest risk in the
whole country today."

He walked around to the laborers who were piling lumber and began
talking with the foreman. The twins stepped nearer so that they could
hear what he was saying.

"They're getting that pile rather high," said Uncle Jack, as if he had
only just noticed it. "It's beginning to look a bit wobbly on its pins.
Isn't there danger of its toppling over and hurting somebody?"

"Oh, I don't know," was the foreman's answer. "We do have a few men
smashed up that way, off and on; it's all in the day's work, though."

Hardly were the words out of his mouth when a heavily loaded wagon in
passing beside the lumber piles swayed and came squarely up against the
one the men were working on. With a crash and a clatter the whole thing
went over. One man jumped clear of the wreck, another slid down with the
lumber, bruised but not much hurt--and two disappeared under the huge
mass of falling boards.

The three Safety Scouts stood watching the ambulance, fifteen minutes
later, as it carried off the two men to the hospital, one with a broken
arm and a gash over one eye, the other hurt inside so badly that he died
that night. Both of them had boys and girls of their own--families
whose living depended on their daily wages at the mill!

"Hard luck for their folks," said Uncle Jack, as the ambulance rumbled
away. "The Colonel told me yesterday his men had done a lot of
successful Safety scouting among the wood-working mills. I can't
understand it. By the way, Bob, that ambulance reminds me: what drill
are you giving your Safety Scouts on how to call the fire department,
and the police and the ambulance and so on?"

"We've got that well covered in our Saturday reports, Uncle Jack. Once a
week each Scout adds to his report the telephone number of the police
and the fire department--it's usually a number that's easy to remember,
like 'Main 0' for fire and 'Main 13' for police--as well as the street
address of the nearest station."

"Bob, how did they happen to choose those numbers?" wondered Betty.

Her brother grinned. "I suppose because after a bad fire there's nothing
left, and because it's unlucky to fall into the hands of the police!"
and he cleverly ducked the box Betty aimed at his ear.

Uncle Jack's twinkle didn't last long, though. H