“Here, Sep Duncan,” cried Bob, “go and see if any of the rabbits have got any in their holes. There, get out! I shall go home. What’s the good of fooling about here?”
“But father’s got lots of gunpowder in the shed,” cried Bigley.
“Eh?” said Bob starting.
“I could go and get a handful. He’d give it me if he was at home, and he wouldn’t mind my fetching some.”
“Wouldn’t he?” cried Bob, whose sour looks changed to eagerness. “Hooray, then! Cut off and bring your handkerchief full, and we’ll send the stone sky-high.”
“All right,” said Bigley eagerly.
“And bring a flint and steel.”
“Yes: anything else?”
“No, that’ll do.”
“But, I say,” I ventured to put in, “wouldn’t it be dangerous?”