“Of course not.”
“What I want to know is, would they go off one at a time?”
“There’s only one way of knowing for certain, Lynn: stand by and watch.”
“But the cartridges couldn’t do much mischief unless one stood opposite to the bullet-ends.”
“I shouldn’t like to try, my lad. It seems to me that, according to how the cartridges are packed, one would have to undergo the fusillade of what would seem like so many tiny guns, each loaded with a conical bullet; and I think we shall spare no pains to keep fire away.”
“How are you getting on here?” said Uncle Jeff, coming up, wiping his wet brow.
“Oh, pretty well, sir,” replied Blunt. “I have been arranging the other cases ready for supplying the men’s bandoliers when empty, and your nephew and I have been discussing what would be the consequences if a fire-pot came down into an open case.”
“Never mind discussions now,” said Uncle Jeff. “I want to know if there’s anything more that I can do to strengthen the upper works.”
“I’ll come round with you now,” said Blunt.
“Come along, then.—Come too, Stan, my lad.—But let us have a word with the lookout man.”