“No corn,” he said at the end of a few seconds; “but what’s this—sand?”
“Take a pinch up, and taste it, sir. I hope it is.”
“Taste it?” said Lennox half-angrily.
“Yes, sir,” said the sergeant out of the darkness, and the faint rustle he made and then a peculiar sound from his lips indicated that he was setting the example.
The young officer hesitated no longer, but gathering up a pinch of the dry sand from the ground, he just held it to the tip of his tongue.
“Why, sergeant,” he whispered excitedly, “it’s powder!”
“That’s right, sir,” replied the man. “Gunpowder—a train; a heavy train running right and left.”
“Nonsense!”
“Truth, sir. I had the lantern close to it, and might have fired it if I’d dropped the lantern, as I nearly did.”
“But what does it mean? Here, sergeant, that’s what we have to see.”