“I am afraid so, Ben,” was the reply. “But I don’t think there’s much doubt about the powder.”
“Doubt, sir; why, it’s stronger than they makes now, or else it has got riper and better for keeping. We’re all right there.”
“Yes, capital! but that report rings in my ears still.”
“Ay, sir, a brass gun can ring as well as roar; but you won’t mind it after a few times.”
“I don’t feel to mind it now,” said Roy, coolly.
“Not you, sir,” whispered the old fellow. “And I beg your pardon, Master Roy, and you’ve done me, and yourself too, a lot of good. It would ha’ been horrid for the men to think you was scared. I never thought of frightening my lady with the row. Tell the lads to sponge the guns out with a bit o’ rag, and then we’ll run ’em back to their places again.”
Roy gave the order, and then had the sentry changed at the gate, after which there was another duty to have performed,—that of raising the drawbridge.
“No fear of any one forgetting and walking into the moat at night, is there, Ben?”
“Well, no, sir; I think not,” said the old soldier, seriously. “You see, the bridge shuts up all the middle when it’s raised, and that makes it sure, while at those sides nobody could tumble in without trying to; so I don’t see no fear of that. Shall we haul her up, sir?”
“Yes.” And giving the order, as soon as the guns were in place, he led the way up into the furnace-chamber, where two men seized each chain, and the ponderous structure slowly rose as the huge weights descended the stone-work tubes in which they hung, the difficulty of hoisting the bridge proving to be much lighter than at the former trial.