“I did not try to hit him,” replied Mr Frewen, quietly.
“Then why did you fire, sir? A loud noise is not likely to frighten such a man as that.”
“No; but the idea of being shot at, and the explosion of that loose powder about his ears has startled him, and he’ll be careful about coming up to the door to lay powder-bags again.”
“Then you fired to light the loose powder?”
“Yes, and it has had its effect, though I hesitated for a moment for fear the bag should not be far enough off. Where did you put it, Dale?”
“Along with the other in Mr Preddle’s cabin,” I said triumphantly, for when the door was open I was down on my knees ready by Mr Frewen’s legs, and as he thrust the barrels of his gun against Jarette’s side, I snatched at the bag and drew it in.
“Take my place, Mr Preddle,” said Mr Denning to him, “I must go back to our cabin and speak to my sister. She will be terribly alarmed by the firing.”
“Shall I go and speak to her?” said Mr Preddle, eagerly.
“If you are afraid to take my place,” said Mr Denning, sternly.
“I—I thought—I wanted—I wished to save you trouble,” stammered the stout passenger. “Thank you; my piece is loaded.”