Untangling the fire-crackers had pulled the fuses out of some of them. These unfortunates were carefully put aside for "cat and dog fights."
There were one or two green fire-crackers in every bunch, and occasionally a yellow one. These he herded by themselves, for use at especially important moments. That they make a louder noise than the red ones is a scientific fact well known to all experts.
I had not separated my crackers. It was a joy I decided to defer until the great day. There was a pleasure in seeing the bunches intact, and in observing the red wrappers with their gorgeous gilt dragons. You could smell the gunpowdery smell as well as if the packages had been opened. But I counted those eighteen bunches of crackers every night and every morning, and sometimes during the day. And I had broken the top of one of the torpedo boxes and explored with my fingers in the sawdust.
There were twelve fat torpedoes in the box, and five boxes, and that made—that made—(oh! Mr. Colburn!) it made sixty! yes, sixty great, big, lovely torpedoes. Sixty beautiful bangs!
But one must be careful with torpedoes. They must be fired with care, one at a time, for the proper enjoyment of them. There had been accidents,—I had seen one the year before. Little Larry Paine had fired all his crackers before ten o'clock in the morning. He went into the house to get the last of his stock of explosives,—a box of torpedoes. The sawdust had been taken out, and he came forth again with a dozen torpedoes loose in the box. As he reached the sidewalk the box slipped, and fell on the bricks with one terrifying crash. All the torpedoes had gone off together.
It was magnificent, but it was not war. It filled us with joy, but it filled Larry with woe. He lifted up his voice and mourned because they were not. With loud wails he retreated into the house, and his agonized family knew no peace for an hour.
"My brother Billy's goin' to the bonfire at midnight," announced Ed Mason, conscious of the glory reflected upon him by this fact.
But I was not to be outdone.
"Poo! that's nothin'. My brother's goin' to stay up all night; he an' Phil Coombs an' Arthur Monroe are goin' to sleep in Arthur Monroe's barn an' they're goin' to the bonfire an' they ain't goin' to bed at all. Last Fourth he nearly got arrested for ringin' the High School bell!"
I was determined to leave Ed Mason not a leg to stand on.