“Us ain’t got no fuse-hole,” Little Bit remarked.
“We can go up to Uncle Tom’s and borrow a auger and bore a fuse-hole,” Org replied. “I know where an auger is.”
They concealed their keg of powder under some brush and spent an hour going after the tool, playing along the road both coming and going. Then they took turns in working, as they bored the hole.
“Less load her up now and shoot off, and that’ll make an end of a perfect day,” Org remarked, quoting a part of a song he had heard his sister sing to Captain Kerlerac.
“Dis ole cannon is gwine use up all our powder,” Little Bit declared, as he peeped up the hollow to where the light of the fuse-hole showed.
“We don’t care,” Org laughed. “This powder don’t cost us nothing.”
They placed their fuse properly, then emptied the contents of the keg into the muzzle of the log cannon. They rammed the charge home with a number of old sacks which they had been thoughtful enough to pick up in the barn and bring with them when they went after the augur. Then they added several hat-loads of leaves and grass which they mixed with mud from the branch. After that they charged the “cannon” to the very end with great quantities of sod torn up from the edge of the branch and rammed hard into the muzzle with the blunt end of a big stick.
“Now she’s ready to shoot. Who’s going to light the fuse?” Org asked.
“Not me,” Little Bit said positively. “I’m jes’ a little fool nigger, an’ ain’t to be trusted wid no important jobs.”
“I’ll light the fuse,” Org announced. “Go up on the road and see if anybody is coming.”