“Three kegs,” he answered. “Two of a hundred and fifty pounds’ weight each, and one smaller.”
“It might serve,” I said, half to myself.
“What?” asked my companion.
Then I told him a plan I had. We went down from the tower.
“Bring the powder here,” I said, “the two large barrels,” and it was fetched by four men, two carrying a keg between them. At my direction they also got some strong rope. I called Carteret out of hearing of the men.
“What I am going to do has some danger in it,” I said, “and, seeing that I may not return, I charge you to care for--for Mistress Lucille, after--well--after I am dead.”
“She shall be to me as my own daughter,” he exclaimed, grasping my hand heartily.
“This is what I will do,” I said. “The Indians are so busy carrying brush now that they are giving little heed to aught else, even to each other. I believe I can go out among them under cover of the dark, escape detection, and help them at their work.”
“What serves that?”
“Much, I hope,” was my reply. “I did not tell you all of the plan before. My brush will be of good barrel staves, and within those same staves will be powder. I will hide the two barrels in the brush-heap, which I can easily do in the confusion, light the slow matches fastened to them, come back to the block--if I can--then wait for what happens.”