The hunters moved towards the light, and soon found themselves in a clearing of some extent. A strong log-hut stood in the centre of this clearing, and divers emblems of civilization and occupation were strewed around it. What seemed most strange, to even the most inattentive of the hunters, was certain implements which are seldom seen in the midst of a forest. These were such implements as are used in the construction of railroads.
“Hello!” yelled Steve, glancing at all these implements, “hello! we have stumbled on a new railroad, have we? Well, we ought to be able to find our way out now pretty easily; for railroads don’t spring up in wildernesses.”
“Yes, we are just within the woods; outside we shall find the railroad and civilization,” Will returned. “Well, I don’t see much romance in getting lost for an hour or so.”
“Hello, what is this?” Steve cried suddenly. “Here is a neat little tube, something like a cartridge. Now, is it a cartridge?”
“Be careful, Steve,” Will cautioned. “There is no knowing what dangerous things may be lying about here. I remember, when I was a pretty little boy, my father told me horrible stories about gun-cotton. He made it out to be a frightful explosive, in order to deter me from meddling with things strange to me. Now, perhaps—”
But at this point the prudent one was interrupted by a shout of laughter from Charles. “Will,” he said, “what do you mean by ‘a pretty little boy?’ Do you mean, when you were a handsome, though diminutive, urchin, or simply, when you were rather small?”
George now drew on his knowledge, and prepared to enlighten them. “Gun-cotton, boys,” he said, “is a composition which con—”
Doubtless George would have given a very lucid explanation of the nature and virtues of gun-cotton; but at this point, Steve, who still held the little “tube,” said impatiently, “Now, what do I care about gun-cotton? There is no cotton here, and as for a gun—go to grass! This tube can be made to fit the blunt end of my pencil, very neatly; and what is more, it shall be put there.”