The Officer saw the general terror he had inspired, and both he and his Soldiers were well pleased.
“Besides,” he continued, speaking more loudly than before, “if our swords fail us we shall have recourse to gunpowder, which will make short work of our enemies.”
The Elephant looked at the Officer and his men.
“I don’t see it,” he said bluntly.
“I didn’t suppose you would,” said the Officer scornfully. “Don’t speak in such a hurry. The powder I’m speaking of is felt but not seen. It’s our last improvement, arrived at by slow degrees. Gunpowder,—smokeless gunpowder,—soundless gunpowder,—invisible gunpowder. Thus we may surround an enemy with enough gunpowder to blow up a town, but they neither see it nor hear it. In fact, they know nothing about it until they are blown up.”
This time all the Toys nearly expired with fright! The Elephant only remained, as before, unmoved.
“Invisible gunpowder is more humane in the end,” the Officer continued. “You are quite unaware of what is happening until you find yourself in pieces.”
“The same thing may happen to yourself, I suppose?” asked the Elephant, in his heavy and clumsy fashion.