“Good!” Will chuckled. “Pa was right—and so was I. I can snatch it out without any trouble, and then won’t Steve wonder what has become of it! Just wait till I play my little trick on him!”
As soon as Steve looked in another direction, Will sidled up to the fire, adroitly drew out the box, and slipped it into his pocket.
He had scarcely done so when Steve whirled around and saw him.
“Will!” he cried excitedly, “come away, or you’ll be burned!—The—the fire is very hot, you know,” he added, by way of explaining his solicitude.
“So it is,” Will assented, stepping back. To himself he added, “Poor Steve! you thought I should be blown up by the fire-crackers, did you? Well, it is a good thing you don’t know it is gunpowder, and it’s a good thing I am here to prevent a catastrophe!”
Stephen waited eagerly and anxiously for the supposed crackers to go off. He imagined that the boys would be struck with amazement and horror to see the fire suddenly snap, and hiss, and roar, and vomit forth ashes and coals. Then he would explain how it was done, and the boys would cheer, and laugh, and say, “That’s a bully trick, Steve!” And then they would saunter off, filled with admiration and envy, forced to admit that in originality and daring Steve had no equal in the county.
But as no explosion took place, Steve became uneasy. He was of a restless disposition, and a trifle was sufficient to make him fidgety. He had not observed that the box was fabricated of wood that would not readily take fire, and he expected to hear the crackers detonate almost immediately.
“Surely it ought to be burnt clear through by this time!” he mumbled to himself. “What in the world is the matter? O dear! I hope they will go off before the people come here to see to things! Why didn’t I at least see how thick the pesky box was!”
“Oh, come along, boys, there’s no fun here, and it’s as hot as pain-killer,” an owl-eyed booby exclaimed. “Come along, boys; let’s leave this here Saucer.”