“That’s what we were planning, uncle,” cried Stan; “only we had some rather peculiar notions.”
The natural result of this remark was that the lad had to explain and give a full account of his ideas, which was received with a grunt.
“There’s a lot in it that sounds well, Stan,” said Uncle Jeff after listening for some time in silence, “but too much of the toy-shop and Fifth of November about the rest. That kite-flying would never do.”
“Why, it would be so simple, uncle!”
“Very simple indeed, my boy—Simple Simony. Why, Stan, how do you think you are going to fly kites with the enemy in front?”
“But they’re only to raise burning things like the pirates’ stink-pots.”
“I should have a deal more faith in something of that sort. But how would you guide your kite with a fiery tail over the junk you meant to destroy?”
“By means of the string. I could easily manage one, by pulling in and letting out till it was just over a junk; and then I should pull the second string, for of course there would be two; and then I should let one go, and down would fall the fiery shell right upon the junk’s deck.”
“If it didn’t go down splash into the river—eh?”
“Oh, I should manage it better than that,” said the lad confidently.