Patience Wins Part 20

He pointed to a sort of raft formed of a couple of planks placed about five feet apart and across which a dozen short pieces of wood had been nailed, forming a buoyant platform, on which no doubt our enemies had floated themselves down from the head of the dam, where there was a timber yard.

"All plain enough now," said Uncle Jack, grinding his teeth. "Oh, if I could have had hold of those two fellows by the collar when they fell in!"

"Well," said Uncle Bob, "what would you have done--drowned them?"

"Not quite," said Uncle Jack; "but they would have swallowed a great deal more water than would have been good for them."

"Never mind about impossible threats," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "Let's examine the powder canister now."

This was taken from its resting-place during the time the men were at breakfast and carried into the office, where the dangerous weapon of our enemies was laid upon the desk and examined.

It was a strong tin canister about ten inches high and six across, and bound round and round, first with strong string and afterwards loosely with some soft black-looking cord, which Uncle d.i.c.k said was fuse; and he pointed out where one end was pa.s.sed through a little hole punched through the bottom of the canister, while the loosely-twisted fuse was held on by thin wire, which allowed the soft connection with the powder to hang out in loops.

"Yes," said Uncle d.i.c.k; "if that is good fuse, the very fact of any part touching a spark or smouldering patch of ash would be enough to set it alight, and there is enough, I should say, to burn for a quarter of an hour before it reaches the powder. Yes, a good ten pounds of it," he added, balancing the canister in his hands.

"But it may be a scare," said Uncle Bob: "done to frighten us. We don't know yet that it is powder."

"Oh, we'll soon prove that," cried Uncle Jack, taking out his knife.

"Uncle! Take care!" I cried in agony, for I seemed to see sparks flying from his knife, and the powder exploding and blowing us to atoms.

"If you are afraid, Cob, you had better go back home," he said rather gruffly, as he cut the fuse through and tore it off, to lie in a little heap as soon as he had freed it from the wire.

Then the string followed, and the canister stood upright before us on the desk.

"Looks as harmless as if it were full of arrow-root or mustard," said Uncle Bob coolly. "Perhaps, after all, it is a scare."

I stood there with my teeth closed tightly, determined not to show fear, even if the horrible stuff did blow up. For though there was no light in the room, and the matches were in a cupboard, I could not get out of my head the idea that the stuff _might_ explode, and it seemed terrible to me for such a dangerous machine to be handled in what appeared to be so reckless a way.

"Lid fits pretty tight," said Uncle Jack, trying to screw it off.

"Don't do that, old fellow," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "It would be grinding some of the dust round, and the friction might fire it."

"Well, yes, it might," replied Uncle Jack. "Not likely though, and I want to examine the powder."

"That's easily done, my boy. Pull that bit of fuse out of the hole, and let some of the powder trickle out."

"Bravo! Man of genius," said Uncle Jack; and he drew out the plug of fuse that went through the bottom of the canister.

As he did this over a sheet of paper a quant.i.ty of black grains like very coa.r.s.e dry sand began to trickle out and run on to the paper, forming quite a heap, and as the powder ran Uncle Jack looked round at his brother and smiled sadly.

"Not done to frighten us, eh, Bob!" he said. "If that stuff had been fired the furnace-house and chimney would have been levelled."

"Why, Cob," said Uncle d.i.c.k, laying his hand affectionately upon my shoulder. "You must be a brave fellow to have hauled that away from the furnace."

"I did not feel very brave just now," I said bitterly. "When Uncle Jack began to handle that tin I felt as if I must run away."

"But you didn't," said Uncle Bob, smiling at me.

"Is that gunpowder?" I said hastily, so as to change the conversation.

"No doubt of it, my lad," said Uncle Jack, scooping it up in his hand, so that it might trickle through his fingers. "Strong blasting powder.

Shall I fire some and try?"

"If you like," I said sulkily, for it was, I knew, said to tease me.

"Well, what's to be done, boys?" said Uncle Jack. "Are we going to lay this before the police? It is a desperate business!"

"Desperate enough, but we shall do no good, and only give ourselves a great deal of trouble if we go to the law. The police might trace out one of the offenders; but if they did, what then? It would not stop the attempts to harm us. No: I'm of opinion that our safety lies in our own watchfulness. A more terrible attempt than this could not be made."

"What shall we do with the powder, then?" asked Uncle Bob; "save it to hoist some of the scoundrels with their own petard?"

"Oh, of course if you like," said Uncle Jack. "Fancy Bob trying to blow anybody up with gunpowder!"

"When he can't even do it with his breath made into words."

"Ah! Joke away," said Uncle Bob; "but I want to see you get rid of that horrible stuff."

"We don't want to save it then?" said Uncle Jack.

"No, no; get rid of it."

"That's soon done then," said Uncle Jack, tying a piece of the cord round the canister; and, going to the open window, he lowered it down over the deep water in the dam, where it sank like a stone, and drew the cord after it out of sight.

"There," he cried, "that will soon be so soaked with water that it will be spoiled."

"Who's that," I said, "on the other side of the dam? He's watching us."

"Squintum the grinder. What's his name--Griggs. Yes, I shouldn't be a bit surprised if that scoundrel had a hand--"

"Both hands," put in Uncle Bob.

"Well, both hands in this ugly business."

"But couldn't you prove it against him?" I said.

"No, my lad," said Uncle Jack; "and I don't know that we want to.

Wretched misguided lumps of ignorance. I don't want to help to transport the villains."

We had drawn back from the window to where there was still a little heap of powder on the desk as well as the fuse.

"Come, Bob," said Uncle Jack; "you may not be quite convinced yet, so I'll show you an experiment."

He took about a teaspoonful of the powder, and placed it in a short piece of iron pipe which he laid on the window-sill, and then taking the rest of the explosive, he gave it a jerk and scattered it over the water.

Then taking about a yard of the black soft cord that he said was fuse, he tucked one end in the pipe so that it should rest upon the powder, laid the rest along the window-sill, and asked me to get the matches.

"Now," he said, "if that's what I think--cleverly made fuse, and good strong powder--we shall soon see on a small scale what it would have done on a large. Strike a match, Cob."