“Yes, of course,” cried the boy, excitedly.
“And we haven’t wasted time, sir; corp’ral and me’s been pretty busy, getting what we thinks about the right depression of the muzzles, for you see we’re a good height up here. I don’t know that we shall be right, but we can soon get the range; and if you’ll begin now, sir, I’d like you to try my gun first.”
“Ready!” cried Roy, whose heart began to thump heavily.
“Like to take a squint along her, sir, first?” said Ben.
“No; I’ll trust to your aim.”
“Then, stand fast there!” cried Ben; and taking the port-fire from the man who held it, he presented it to the young castellan, who glanced at the earthwork, where he could see men busy, and a couple of squadrons of troopers drawn up some distance back on either side; and then, setting his teeth hard, he let the sparkling fuse fall softly on the touch-hole of the gun.
There was a flash, a great ball of smoke, the gun rushed backward, and the report seemed to stun Roy, whose ears rang, and a strange singing noise filled his head.
Ben said a few words, and leaned over the battlement, sheltering his eyes to watch the effect of the shot, as the smoke rose and began to spread. Then he turned and shouted something; but what it was Roy could not hear, neither could he catch a word that was uttered by the trooper-corporal, though the movement of his lips suggested that he was speaking.
“Can’t hear you,” shouted Roy, as loudly as he could; and the man smiled, and pointed to the port-fire and the second gun.
That was clear enough to understand; so Roy took a couple of steps towards the breech, and as the men stood drawn up in regular form on either side, he once more touched the priming.