“That’s what I’m thinking, sir,” said the sergeant.
“Forward, then;” and the pair went on at the double to the spot where the train was laid, the fuses being some distance from the ammunition-wagons, and on lower ground sheltered by great stones.
The next minute the pair were down on one knee sheltering their match-boxes from the wind behind a big rock, with the train well in view, for those who laid it had not scrupled to use an abundance of powder.
“I did not reckon about this wind,” said Dickenson. “As fast as one of us strikes a light it will be blown out.”
“That’s right, sir.”
“And we shall never get the fuse started.”
“We must try, sir.”
“Yes,” said Dickenson. “Here, it must be one man’s job to fire the train; the explosion will send off the next wagon.”
“And no mistake, sir. We ought to have had a lantern to light the fuse at. But you get lower down, sir, and I’ll set off the whole box of matches I’ve got here, chuck it into the train, and drop behind this big stone.”
“That seems to be the only way to get it done,” replied Dickenson.