Part 21 (1/2)

I did as I was told, feeling as if I was going to let off a very interesting firework, and as soon as the splint was well alight I was about to hold the little flame to the end of the fuse, but Uncle Jack stopped me.

”No,” he said, ”I want to see if a spark would have lit it. I mean I want to see if just drawing the canister over the remains of the furnace-fire would have started the fuse. That's it, now just touch the end quickly with the match.”

There was only a little spark on the wood, and no flame, as I touched the side of the fuse.

The effect was instantaneous. The soft black-looking cord burst into scintillations, tiny sparks flew off on all sides, and a dull fire began to burn slowly along the fuse.

”Capitally made,” said Uncle Jack. ”That would have given the scoundrels plenty of warning that the work was well done, and they would have been able to get to a distance before the explosion took place.”

”And now we shall see whether the powder is good,” said Uncle d.i.c.k.

”But how slowly it burns!” said Uncle Bob.

”But how surely,” I had it on my lips to say.

I did not speak though, for I was intently watching the progress of the sparks as they ran along the fuse slowly and steadily; and as I gazed I seemed to see what would have gone on in the great dark building if I had not been awakened by the sc.r.a.ping sound of the canister being hauled over bench and floor.

I shuddered as I watched intently, for the fuse seemed as if it would never burn through, and even when, after what in my excitement seemed a long s.p.a.ce of time, it did reach the iron pipe, though a few sparks came from inside, the powder did not explode.

”Uncle Bob's right!” I cried with an intense feeling of relief; ”that was not powder, and they only tried to frighten us.”

_Puff_!

There was a sharp flash from each end of the iron tube, and one little ball of white smoke came into the office, while another darted out into the sunny morning air.

”Wrong, Cob,” said Uncle Jack. ”Splendidly-made fuse and tremendously-strong powder. We have had a very narrow escape. Now, lads, what's to be done?”

”What do you say, Jack?” said Uncle d.i.c.k.

”Do our duty--be always on the watch--fight it out.”

”That's settled,” said Uncle d.i.c.k. ”Now let's get to work again. Cob, you can come and see us cast some steel ingots if you like.”

”Cast!” I said.

”Yes, cast. You know what that is?”

”Yes, of course.”

”But you never saw it liquid so that it could be poured out like water.”

”No,” I said, as I followed him, wondering whether I had not better tell him that I had overheard a strange remark about poisoning a dog, and ask if he thought there was any risk about Piter, who seemed to grow much uglier every day, and yet I liked him better.

The end of it was that I saw the steel lifted out of the furnace in crucibles and poured forth like golden-silver water into charcoal moulds, but I did not speak about the dog.

CHAPTER TEN.

”'NIGHT, MATE.”

As it happened, Mr Tomplin came in that evening, and when he asked how matters were progressing at the works, Uncle d.i.c.k looked round and seemed to be asking his brothers whether he should speak.