"What ye mean?"
A tiny smile broke about the Gentleman's lips. He raised a finger, and drew nearer on his toes, stealthy as a child about to reveal a secret to its mother; and there was a horror about him.
"Hush, and I'll whisper you!"
The horror grew upon the man. The Parson shivered.
The very air was listening.
"Powder-mine."
"A what?"
"A powder-mine."
The laughter bubbled up in his eyes, and rippled about his face. He was a child, a cruel child, who springs a carefully-prepared surprise on a comrade, and dwells wantonly on the effect.
"Not vairy nice, is it?" he bantered. "I do feel for you."