“Well,” said Bob at last in a disappointed tone, “I s’pose we may as well go down on the beach crabbing, for we can’t move that stone.”
“I know how we could move it,” cried Bigley suddenly.
“Tchah! How?” I said.
“Same as my father moved the great rock out there in the cove. There was a big lump there that was always dangerous for the lugger when she was coming in.”
“Well, what then?” said Bob contemptuously.
“Why,” continued Big eagerly, “he waited till the spring tides and the water was terribly low, and then he put a lot of gunpowder in a hole under it and laid a train, and smeared a piece of rag with powder, and nicked the flint and steel till the rag caught fire, and then he ran away.”
“Well?” I said.
“Well, then the rag sparked and spit fire till the train began to run, and then the train set light to the powder, and there was a big bom boom.”
“A big what?” we both cried.
“A big bom boom,” said Bigley.